Letters to Logic
by Miss Rosie Real
Summary: Wally/Jinx and Dick/Kori. Love impairs judgement. C'est la vie.
1. Chapter 1

**Letters to Logic**

**By Rose**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans.**

**So, I'm riding back home in my parent's car. It's a four hour ride. And my iPod battery dies forty minutes into it. So I'm stuck there, listening to my parents homicidal mystery book-on-tape, and trying not to throw myself out of the car- when this pops into my head.**

**It's the product of desperate boredom. Give it a try. =) What's the worse that could happen?**

**Summary: An AU Jinx/Kid Flash story that could only be described as… quirky. A petty grudge war starring Starfire and Robin, and oddly enough, a puppy love Raven/BB on the side.**

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Four secrets

Ambition can overwhelm even the most balanced man

The meanest girl is the most insecure

Love will warp and embitter the romantic

And the wisest will see life as it is and laugh

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Prologue: Frowning is Not Allowed

(Jenny)

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I would like to open my story with a strange, intriguing monologue in a wise, British, "come hither" voice…

But this isn't _The Lord of the Rings_, and I am no Cate Blanchett.

I would love to start with a series of mystical music notes that ring with both familiarity and magic…

But- tragically- this isn't _Harry_ _Potter_, and my soundtrack is more of an odd combo of angry punk girl music (for me), earthy Indie songs (for Rachel), screaming metal angst (for Richard), quirky show tunes (for Kori), and what I like to call Best of the 40's: The Remix (a bizarre mixture of techno and oldies… for Wally).

I think I'll spare you the trauma.

I could mimic _The Dark Knight_ and begin immediately with an intense bank robbery… Except- due to the lack of suspenseful crime in my story- that would be irrelevant.

Instead I shall first tell you what to expect. … This story is about love. (The woman I loved is… _dead_… )

Oh if only. But I'm not gay, and this isn't _Moulin Rouge_, no matter how much I wish I could co-star with Ewan McGregor.

No, there are no intense deaths- and even if there were, I wouldn't spoil it by admitting it in the first ten seconds.

Alas, we shall have to make due with my alluring charm and inviting prose-… stop laughing! That was not supposed to be a joke.

My story begins with- well, if we're being honest, my previous bitter ramblings, but _after_ this prologue of sorts...

My story begins with a young girl.

You see, this story… _my_ story, it _is_ about love. And no, not the kind of love you would imagine.

This is no silly crush, or petty infatuation. None of that nonsense.

No, I'm talking about the _real_ thing here. A kind of love involving chemistry and sparks, weak knees and that feeling of utter speechlessness.

My story is about that rare kind of love.

The moment where your soul meets its corresponding partner in another.

Love that is to be kept and cherished.

My story is about the deep, moving relationship between that young girl…

And her _shoes_.

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Part I: How Dare You! I Do Not Abuse My Position as a Boss

(Still Jenny)

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_May 11__th_

I was having one of _those_ days.

The kind of day where you hit the snooze button a millisecond after the alarm goes off, and in the process of getting out of bed you unexplainably fall back to a deep sleep for another hour.

The kind of day where you somehow manage to grab two different pairs of right-foot shoes in a desperate, rushed frenzy to get to work on time.

The kind of day where you trip while running down the stairs of your apartment, and suddenly understand why your left foot isn't cooperating- it's stuck in an inch taller right-foot shoe.

The kind of day where you stumble back up the stairs to get a functioning pair of shoes, and on the way down, still fall down the stairs- this time without the convenient excuse of a malfunctioning wardrobe.

The kind of day where you have to deal with whiny, uncooperative client after client, who won't cut you any sort of break, even though you're having the day from hell, no- their hair has to be done perfectly, and it has to miraculously fix all of problems in their life, or else no tip.

The kind of day where your personal demon, the five-year-old Ricky with an almost impressively long-lasting crying ability, steals your scissors and crawls under the waiting room couch, refusing to come out until his unimpressed mother returns, again without apology or advice.

You ever have one of those days?

I didn't think so. Only I, the current practical joke of the man upstairs, could have days like this.

"I'm calling it a night," Even I could hear the fury laced with fatigue in my tone. As I growled this I passed Audrey Gent, a young manicurist with a complimenting gothic style, gave me a bracing "cheer up!" smile, and quickly stepped out of my way. Had I not been so aggravated I would have smiled back, maybe even ventured a hug. This wasn't the first time I left her on her own, and I felt a little guilty going, especially since she was still adjusting to the new job. I made a mental note to bring her coffee tomorrow to show my appreciation.

Unlike Audrey, some employees weren't as understanding.

"Fine. Go if you have to, I _certainly_ don't mind staying another hour to close up," The quietly condescending remark came from Seymour Blind: part time artist with a pair of scissors/part time snarky know-it-all/constant thorn in my side.

_Leave it alone._ I told myself with immense patience, and nearly succeeded until he threw in, "…_Again_,"

A milli-second after the word left his mouth I whipped around in sync with Audrey's quiet reprimand of "Seymour!"

"You_ insufferable bastard,"_ I condemned, glaring at his tall, dark and lanky frame. "If I ask you to close _every_ night for the next month, what will your answer be?"

Seymour rolled his eyes and folded his arms. When I continued to glare, he looked down and muttered, "Why I'd _love_ to,"

"That's right, you overbearing, tasteless, scissor wielding baboon! And if I ask you: "Seymour, would you like to come at six in the morning to clean the bathrooms every Sunday until I say otherwise?" What would say?"

"Would I _ever_!"

"Correct. And if I ask you to clean the hair off the floor- _with your tongue- _what do you say then??"

Audrey giggled from the other side of the store. My stony expression cracked as a smile slipped out, and Seymour made a disgusted face.

"…Er, then I call my lawyer," The tension disappeared as I chuckled and relaxed. Laughing, he joined me in a shared grin and added ruefully, "Well I _would_ call West if it were anyone but you, Jenny."

I snickered and gave him a quick hug. "You needn't call any lawyer. Tongue-sweeping is still Gizmo's job,"

Seymour let out a sharp, vindictive bark of laughter, and I smirked. We shared a mutual hatred for our cleaning boy.

I grabbed my purse from the asylum-white countertop and slung it over my shoulder. I felt even more guilty though for leaving Audrey and Seymour behind, and I turned back to the two, who were more of my friends rather than employees. And for all my initial rage, Seymour's snide comment had hit a nerve, and I uncomfortably questioned my position as a boss. "Okay. Would you seriously be pissed if I bailed?" I asked honestly.

Audrey shook her head no, always the placating one. I gave her what I hoped looked like a warm smile, and mentally added a big brownie to her gift of free coffee.

Seymour shook his head, "Naah, I was just kidding. I like to keep you in check, boss, you know that,"

Yes, I did know that quite well. I rolled my eyes a little but dawdled before the door, straightening the sheer purple and red curtains, picking off a dying petal from our flower arrangement. "Absolutely positive you don't care?"

The tall dark boy turned to me then, with an oddly desperate expression. "You can go, really Jenny, I take back everything I said," At my quirked eyebrow, he winked and jerked his head back towards Audrey, who was wiping down the mirrors and humming.

_Awww._ I didn't actually coo aloud, but my smile was probably overbearingly mushy enough. He made a face as I beamed and I couldn't help myself. I gave him encouraging thumbs up, giggling as he scowled disgustedly and shooed me away.

"Will you just get out of here?" He groaned, and I began to backtrack but smirked knowingly. Audrey, who had either been ignoring our exchange or been oblivious to it, called Seymour's name suddenly. Amused, I watched as his head snapped towards the petite dark haired girl so fast that I swear I heard a whiplash.

"Too cute," I murmured to myself on my way out and half-skipped my way to my car.

Unfortunately though, my day of doom was not over. A couple steps out of the door, I stumbled over a drain gate and fell forward, hearing a hideous snap as I went down. "Holy carrots!" I cried out for some reason (I honestly don't know) as I hit the ground hard. Immediately I reacted to the mysterious snapping sound. I turned quickly to survey the damage, and to my extreme distress saw the heel of my left foot shoe embedded into the steel net, separated from its partner. I cursed a nonsensical string of words as I twisted and pulled the decapitated heel free. Once I succeeded my grumbling turned into whining and I sat on the dirty ground in despair, cradling the heel close. "Poor thing," I sighed, pressing the heel close to my chest. And it was a shame, a heartbreaking shame. These were a favorite pair, and very dear to me. They matched with a lot of my outfits, and were a wonderfully accurate portrayal of my fashion style. Three inch heels, for height but still within sensibility, with a round toe for comfort, and made out of white leather. Best of all, on top of the toe sat a large, pink satin bow.

But no longer. "Damn you drain," I swore viciously as I dragged myself up. "Damn you to _hell_,"

And, still clutching the heel in my hand, I limped my way over to my black Chrysler, ready to go home, take a Tylenol PM, and sleep off the misery that was this wretched day.

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Part II: Yeah I'm Kind of a Pro at the Awkward Dance

(Wally)

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"I honestly don't know how we coped without you, West,"

_Oh stop, you're making me blush. _I thought to myself, smiling wryly. Yet somehow, I figured the comment was best kept to myself. Not that I would get in trouble, per say. In fact, I think I could have stripped down to my four-leaf-clover briefs and done the Chicken Dance around the office without so much as a reprimand.

_Hmm… mental note: try that on Monday._

My boss, Mr. Valor, owner of the family-started law firm Value&Valor (Cute, am I right? And five generations of it), clapped my back enthusiastically. "Honestly, son, play your cards right and you might make a prime candidate for partner,"

I raised my eyebrows then, imagining Dick Grayson's horror-struck face if he heard that. "I take it you're pleased with Wilson's case," I assessed.

Valor grinned, and I could practically see the dollar signs flash in his watered down blue eyes. He ran a hand over his smooth bald head, a habit, I assumed, from when he had hair. "Pleased?" He repeated, "West, I'm barely restraining myself from kissing you right now,"

I barked with laughter, and turned to grab my briefcase. "You play your cards right, and you just might get to, sir," Valor snickered, and walked back to his desk with a visible skip in his step.

"See West, that's why I like having you on this firm. Good sense of humor. We need more of that," Mr. Valor said as he stared out from his window, most likely taking in the great view of Jump City and mentally calculating the amount of money he earned today.

"Well," I slung the heavy brief case under my arm and grabbed my box of files from the floor. "I really try to break the 'all lawyers are dull money-sucking scum bags' stereotype," The irony of the statement was lost though, as I walked away from the incarnation of the stereotype, himself.

Smiling, I pushed the door open with my foot, and walked out. In front of the Valor's grand office sat a smaller, yet considerably neater desk, where the floor's shared secretary sat. Kori's startling green eyes stared at me expectantly, and I gave her a friendly wink.

"Oh, does this mean I'm getting a raise?" I called back to my boss over my shoulder.

I heard Valor chuckle and call back, "You name the amount, boy,"

I grinned at Kori, who smiled warmly and gave me quick thumbs up. Mr. Valor's door closed, and I set down the heavy box on Kori's desk, opening my arms as she scurried around her desk and gave me a quick hug. "Congratulations!" She complimented, "I take it he was thrilled?"

"Threats of kissing were made," I admitted, nodding happily.

"…Did he mention anything about partner?" She asked hesitantly, and looked over my shoulder.

I turned to face Dick's steady icy blue gaze, as he leaned against the wall, arms folded with interest. I shrugged and looked down, and Dick flinched. "Just give it to me straight, West,"

"Well…" I rubbed my neck awkwardly, "He did mention… a possibility if I, well he said 'play my cards right'…'course, that could have just been the financial high speaking,"

Dick pursed his lips, and smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah, that could have been it,"

"I still think you're a shoe-in," I offered, wishing I could just leave and escape this horrible tension. Everyone in the building knew that Dick had been working to reach partner for the last three years. And as a new member of the company, a few short weeks before my first year here, I hardly deserved the position. "I mean, this was just this one case, and you've had tons more-,"

"Wally it's fine," Dick smiled then, holding up a hand to silence me, "You don't have to reassure me, what you did today is really good for the company," Kori relaxed visibly behind me, and only then did I know his smile was genuine. Kori and Dick had been together for about year, if not more, and they were remarkably in sync with each other's emotions and thought process.

They made a particularly attractive couple too. Dick had the look of a brooding movie star, complete with classic tall, dark, and handsome features. I couldn't make it through a coffee break without hearing someone gush about his "ice blue eyes" or his "coffee grind black hair" or (my favorite) his "tighter than spandex ass". It seemed as though every female co-worker in the building openly pined for him, all except the equally lovely Kori Anders.

If Dick starred in the women's daydreams, than Kori played a lead role in the males'. The secretary had an exotic beauty about her, with a very subtle French accent, light caramel skin, rich and long coppery red hair, and large celery green eyes. She completed every leg man's fantasy with extraordinarily long legs, and had an air of grace that made you want to watch her move about the room.

And best of all, she was the sweetest and most polite girl you could have imagined. If you caught her without a smile than the moment was a rare one. Her cheery disposition faltered only during a fight with Dick, or in the presence of her sexist boss Mr. Valor.

Speak of the devil... "Miss Anders, did you organize those files for me?" Mr. Valor barked into Kori's desk intercom. I quickly scanned Kori's desk and mentally crossed my fingers that she already did. And, of course, being as efficient as ever her desk was clean. Kori jabbed her finger into the intercom and responded politely, "I did, sir, and made a list of appointments in your daily planner. Also, you are scheduled to have lunch with your brother and his wife tomorrow at Poet's Place-,"

I detected nothing particularly offensive in her moderate tone, but Mr. Valor scowled and the sound of a chair scraping against the floor was heard. Before Kori could even flinch, the door banged open and the tall, broad shouldered man barged out of his office.

"Miss Anders, I have asked you time and time again to check with me before making these appointments-!"

Kori interrupted, "No, sir, you said appointments for work- and specifically told me that i don't need to check before booking anything with family, because the last time I did-," She was babbling now, and I grimaced for her. It was a well known fact that Mr. Valor had some sort of grudge against women, explaining his lack of marriage, and perhaps due to a sexual preference for a different gender.

Whatever the reason, female lawyers at Value&Valor were scarce. This was partially why Kori held only a secretary position, though she was over qualified for my own job, with a Harvard degree to boot (I, for one, got a full ride to Stanford).

Mr. Valor continued to chastise Kori while Dick and I exchanged glances. Well, more like an exchange of glares. I was more than ready to defend Kori, but felt obligated to pass that duty to Dick, seeing as they were practically engaged. It was a frequent moment though, and once again, Dick failed to stand up for his girlfriend. With a scowl in his direction, I quickly cut in and said, "Sir, with all due respect, I don't think she could have realized that this meeting with your brother and his wife was about business- and she was only following your orders. And if you need to reschedule, I'm confident Kori could make that happen immediately, just give her the date,"

Mr. Valor regarded me with cold eyes, and I gulped mentally. _There go my plans for stripping and dancing like a chicken on Monday…_ I'm sure if I so much as coughed wrong now, my boss would now find a way to scold me.

On the other hand, Kori gave me a watery, but grateful smile that magically washed away all my anxiety. I felt a wave of brotherly concern wash over me, and I smiled back at her silent thanks, mentally sending _Anytime._

Then I heard the office door close, and relaxed. "Woo," I sighed, shaking myself. "I'm off, and if I were you, Kori, I'd get out as soon as you can,"

Kori laughed a little, but was already gathering her things. "Seriously thank you Wally, I don't know what I would have done without you," Her tone was hard though, and I didn't have to look to see Dick flinch.

I walked away, sensing another tense moment, and barely made it out in time. The elevator doors were closing when I heard Dick's protest: "What? And risk the chance at getting partner?"

The doors clicked shut before I could hear Kori's response. "Run Dick," I whispered to myself, shaking my head. It was remarkable, how well his name currently fit. _Yes, admit to your girlfriend that your job is more important than she is. Way to go._

Unless I was to be mistaken, Dick would be sleeping alone for the next two-to-three weeks.

The thought both mildly amused me and perturbed me; for a sexless Dick made my life a miserable one… no pun intended.

I thought this over as I reached the car garage and piled into my silver Mercedes. The worst was always that final stretch, which would be halfway within the second week. _Knowing him, that's probably the longest he ever goes without since he turned sixteen._

I felt a little bitter over this knowledge as I pulled out of the garage and sped through the city. Not that I don't… engage in implied activities, I'm just particular about the girls I take home. My tastes, in all honesty, are absolutely random. For instance, to many men, Kori is the perfect girl. Yet I have absolutely no sexual feelings for her, only platonic.

Many of those who felt the same as me tended to head towards her best friend and foil, Rachel Roth, creator of the popular, previously mentioned restaurant, Poet's Place. The dark haired girl made weekly appearances at Value&Valor, to pick up Kori for their typical Wednesday lunch. They have completely contrasting features too, I did not exaggerate. Where Kori is tall and thin, Rachel is petite and a little curvier. Kori has straight red hair, and Rachel has dark brown curls. Kori's eyes are a vivid green, and Rachel's are a penetrating blue. Even their personalities juxtapose. While Kori is sweet, open, and cheerful, Rachel was dry, quiet, and a bit on the cynical side.

She was prime for any man with a mysterious girl fantasy, and was so openly pined for by newest recruit Logan Beast that he practically had 'DIBS' stamped on her forehead.

But as for me, I had no interest in Rachel. If I wasn't so secure in my masculinity (despite the pink tie, I assure you) I would wonder about myself…

I chuckled then as I pulled to a stop at a red light. "Don't be ridiculous," I reassured myself, and rolled my head back to crack my neck, a habit I developed while waiting at traffic lights. I caught a flash of pink in my peripheral vision, and glanced over to my right. I glanced away immediately, not being one to stare, and did a double take.

A grin slid across my face, and all need for gender partiality assurances disappeared.

You know those moments, where you see someone- and your initial reaction is "hello"?

But not just "hello"- but "_hello_"…?

That's _exactly_ how I felt when I saw her.

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**You know what?**

**I think this is going to be fun. :)**

**PS: I'm updating TMA today. The excitement!**

**Maybe this one too. (She's a machine!)**

**Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Letters to Logic**

**By Rose**

**Disclaimer: Not for me! (Firm shake of head)**

**Dedication: To my response, after receiving an award winning pick up line: "I guess you'll do. You can be the relapse in my personal prohibition. Now off with that shirt."**

**Kidding!**

…**Or am I?**

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Part III: That's What a Lady Would Do

(Kori)

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Earlier this afternoon, I had answered my friend Rachel's repeated question the same each time "Yes, I'm fine,"

Of course, there were alterations: "I said I'm fine", "Honey, quit asking, I'm fine,", and finally: "So how's Malcolm?" The last one had been a last resort, but it had worked. She had quickly changed the subject with a set scowl on her face, ready with details about her ex-boyfriend's latest act of asshole. I listened, as I always do, with well practiced patience.

I am, after all, a master of the virtue.

Because love, for your friends, family, and boyfriend, requires patience in order maintain that happy medium between affection and irritation. I have understood that for an undefined amount of years. It helps too, during moments of anger, I calm myself with the knowledge that while my irritation feels strong now, it will pass and my love will outlast the emotion.

_It's all about endurance_ I reminded myself, trying to unlatch my teeth from their clenched position, without avail. My mother would have been able to relax; she was the queen of suppressing anger.

I chided myself as I know she would. Kori, my darling, a lady _never_ loses her temper. My childhood was based on that theme. I grew up with the learned behavior, and had developed rather impressive restraint on negative emotions. On the other hand, my sister Cora failed at it, and marveled "How in hell do you keep from exploding??"

It takes motivation.

It takes practice.

It takes patience.

And in moments of temptation, simply take a deep breath and tell yourself: "_Goddamn it, you fuck the hell off fury, or so help me God, I will pistol whip you like a two cent whore!_"

"So…" The word positively dripped with fear and hesitation. I felt its presence uncomfortably. It was though there was too much used air in this immense room, it felt stuffy and dry and full beyond capacity, and I wondered how that single word managed to fit its way into this massive tension.

Although I was fully aware that the speaker was expecting an answer (I could practically _hear_ the invisible foot tapping in his head) I didn't speak. Instead I opted to stare out the window as I waited for him to pack his briefcase.

The sky was fading, dripping summer blue to sapphire to cobalt, with interventions of orange, pink, red, yellow, all of this hidden behind impressive architectural landscape. At this angle, the rows and rows of windows in the buildings reflected red and orange. Between two buildings, The Civic Center and the Museum of Modern Art, I could make out landscape (or rather, skyscape). I saw clouds, lots of them, all fluffy, flattening, and fading.

Suddenly I was overwhelmed with an urge to drop everything and watch the sun set, right here at this badly situated window, until dark fell and the city glowed silver and neon.

_It's not exactly visually appealing… you know you won't be able to see the whole thing. Why bother?_

_Because-, _I patiently explained to reason, and after a few startled seconds found I didn't have an answer. By no stretch of the imagination did this mean I agreed, however. Rather, I felt myself stubbornly dig my heels in further, literally into the plush rug of Dick's office. _Just because._

_You could do it easily at home, use that balcony of yours…_ My eyes stared at the glimpse of sky and I slipped into a daydream where I had superpowers and, with acid green eye-lasers, annihilated the buildings into a pile of rubble and dust.

_There. _I saw myself shrugging. _Visually appealing enough for you?_

My voice of reason, strangely possessing Dick's voice, scoffed in my mind. _Mature. But the buildings are still there, you won't be able to see, this is stupid, and you can watch the sunset any other night. Why now? Besides… you'll miss Project Runway and I know that's your favorite T.V. show._ I detected a distinct smugness in the tone, and there was a part of me that very badly wanted to inappropriately express my sarcastic congratulations at remembering my favorite program. "Well done", I concluded, just didn't cover it.

I shifted a little, switching my weight to my left leg, and I was suddenly all too aware of my aggravating discomfort. There's nothing like casual movement to let you know how much you despise what you're wearing. I longed to rip off my black suit-jacket and panty-hose, and throw them out the window. _Good riddance. _These awful contraptions were uncomfortable on a good day, and today I just wanted to burn the vile things. And dance on the ashes.

But most off all, the thing I wanted most was to simply walk out of this office, out of the building I so reviled, away from my building frustration, and ultimately, away from Dick. My anger subsided slightly on the last of my list, and I glanced over at my boyfriend, who was staring at me expectantly with arched eyebrows, searching for some answer to a question obviously just asked, apparently speaking this entire time-

"Kori?"

I hate my name. Kori, of course, is not the name on my birth certificate. No, my dear mother (with an appalling name of her own: _Trixy Louise_) called on her powers of creativity and made up a name for her second daughter. On February 5, 1985, I was christened Corianna Antoinette Anders. I forgave her, with difficulty. At least I think I did.

My older sister, Cora, did not fair any better. Her full name is Coraline (yes, from the disturbing book) Anastasia Anders. Well, Coraline Anastasia _Wilson_, I should say.

"_Kori_?"

Since the age of eight, my sister and I made a pact. I was dubbed Kori, and she Cora, at least until we were old enough to legally change our name. Sixteen years later we still hadn't found the time to do so.

"I should call Cora," I said to myself, wondering suddenly what she was doing right now. I turned finally to Dick, who watched me, his expression caught between indignant and cautious. "Oh, um…" Oddly enough, I did not flounder though I had absolutely no idea what he had been saying for the last five minutes. Vaguely I nodded, halfheartedly picking up some kind of lifeline. "Yes," I threw in for effect as I turned back to the diminishing light in the sky.

Dick sighed, "I'm glad you understand. So tomorrow you can apologize to him, and things will-,"

_Um what? _My neck cracked in three different places as I snapped my head back. "I'm sorry, repeat that for me?" My voice, forever sweet and even, had an undeniable edge, physically felt as I traced my tongue against my teeth to avoid painful teeth grinding.

No dummy tonight, Dick blinked and eyed me carefully. "Um… well, you said you understood how important this job is to me,"

_Understand? Oh it's branded into my DNA. After all, it's been a constant theme in our relationship for a year. _I thought sourly.

"And if you do this, I might get partner, and… well, you know how long I've waited for this,"

_Like you talk about anything else. But who's complaining? I mean, I just can't get enough of the lawyer series! What's it this time? Dick Grayson and the Case of the Epic Fail! The sequel!_

The room seemed to minimize in size; the walls shortened and the ceiling sunk. I felt heated from the inside out, like my blood was boiling inside me. "Yes, I understand perfectly," I answered reassuringly, and then listened in astonishment as my voice came out as an exasperated snarl.

_Tagline: Object THIS._

"Kori, are you okay?"

I was quickly beginning to realize, that no, I was certainly not okay.

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Part IV: Hey, I Like Your Face!

(Wally)

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I could see her clearly because she was applying lip gloss in her lit fold down mirror. She had an unknown height, but if I could guess, from the way she held herself, she was tall. Pale too, but not translucent pale. Porcelain, it looked like, and most likely very clear. I could tell this girl wouldn't put up with bad skin or anything of the sort. Why? Maybe it was because of her hair. She had thick mesh of shockingly white-blonde hair that nearly matched her skin, and judging by its health she obviously took care of it well.

I watched, entranced, as she puckered her lips experimentally and then stuck her tongue out at her reflection. I had absolutely no idea why, and what's more I felt I had to know. Then I noticed something curious. At the roots and tips of her hair, she had either colored it a very strawberry red or straight up pink. I lamented bad lighting, preventing me from differentiating colors. I strained to see, and on a whim, decided it was pink.

Interestingly enough, this effect was neither reminiscent of the "angst-and-anarchy" punk image as you would have guessed. Rather, I believe the pink hair would have universal approval on this particular girl. It fit her angular facial structure well, and most importantly, it implied that this girl had _personality_.

My kind of personality, that is.

Just from first glance, I knew that this nameless girl was _pissed_. I can't explain why that made me smile, but for some reason it did.

I cannot describe my sudden focus on her. Call it what you want, infatuation, obsession, destiny, but all I knew was that I wanted her attention on me immediately. And I wouldn't rest until it was. Without a real plan in mind, I turned on my radio and cranked up the volume top notch.

_Earth, Wind, and Fire… nice._ Begging for success, I looked straight ahead and sang along to _September_, throwing in some dance moves here and there. Twenty seconds into it, I glanced over once, and bit my lip to keep from smiling.

She was staring- no, _glaring_ right at me, and- get this- her eyes were _pink_.

_Why don't I know you?_ I wondered in delighted astonishment.

I cocked my head once and waved lamely. Pointing at the radio I mouthed, "Earth, Wind, and Fire- you like?"

Her eye literally twitched.

_That's fine. I like them a little insane. _I couldn't help but grin as I watched her teeth grind together as she turned back to the red light.

I laughed once, and then pondered how to grab her attention again. All of a sudden I heard loud and very angry girl music. With overwhelming enthusiasm I whipped over to look, and sure enough, she was singing and tapping her hand against the wheel. I'll be honest, in that moment I couldn't imagine anything sexier.

_Okay. How do I get her number?_

Before I could think of a way, I saw the opposite street's light change from green to yellow.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part V: And Then I Asked Myself: What Could Go Wrong?

(Jenny)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Okay.

I'll admit it.

As far as guys go, this one was pretty adorable. He had fiery red hair and lots of it, thick and messy and absolutely disheveled. What compelled me to look more was the contrast between this crazy hair and what looked like expensive suit and tie apparel. Something about his facial structure told me a lot about him, and I thought he might be older, a little older than me. There was also something noticeably intelligent and friendly in his expression. Even though he wasn't my favorite rugged and misunderstood type, he _was_ pretty cute, attractive even. In a Weasley way. _Possibly Bill _I debated.

If I was in a better mood, I might have turned to his radio station and joined his sing-a-long. I liked _Earth, Wind, and Fire_ as much as the next person. Maybe I would have danced too, and blown him a kiss as I departed.

But, to be frank, I was still mourning my shoe, annoyed after an apologetic call from an employee claiming she couldn't come in tomorrow, and sore from too many trips.

So I barely restrained my initial reaction: to give him the finger.

Then all of a sudden he _grinned_, and I nearly did a double take. Because when he smiled, his entire face changed. His undecided age altered, minimized, and suddenly he looked years younger. His eyes, large and some bright color, twinkled- even in this awful light. I felt physically hit by his smile, and on impact it reminded me of mischievous children.

All too suddenly I was reminded of the hell-child Ricky.

_Screw you, Ginger! _I street lights turned from green to yellow, and I relaxed visibly, suddenly aware of how cursed and stabbed the radio button with my finger. Without another though I belted in sync with M.I.A. and did a little pissed off dance of my own.

Soon enough the opposite long I had been waiting. Before I could even begin to accelerate forward, I heard the growl of a nearby engine over the loud music.

"You must be joking," I grumbled turning to the culprit.

Bill Weasley (I titled then, acknowledging that Bill was the sexiest of the Weasley's and that this guy was very up there on the hot meter) grinned at me in a silent challenge and said either silently or aloud: "I joke you not,"

He revved his engine again.

_This cannot be happening._ I scowled, but felt my foot instinctively mimic his action and rev the engine. I cursed my teenage experience with street racing. _Well, I guess it would be kind of fun just to-… no, no- bad, no, absolutely not._

And then he jerked his head towards the highway ahead of us, and suddenly I noticed how weirdly empty the streets were.

"Wanna go?" He asked in what I imagined was a cocky tone.

Without thinking I narrowed my eyes and said aloud: "_Bring it_,"

The light turned green.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part VI: A Guy Can Dream

(Wally)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

In all technicalities, my car _was_ faster. Winning should have been an easy feat, possibly was a listed guarantee from when I bought the car.

I could see, however, that she seemed to have some sort of familiarity with this sport. I raised a mental eyebrow. Possibly she had a history of racing? Then I saw the turn green and before I could floor it she was off.

To give myself (well, my car) credit where it's due, it didn't take to long to catch up with her. Before very long my Mercedes was in the lead, leaving her unremarkable car in the gritty, highway dust. I sped down the road at a fixed pace, ahead of her but not to leave her behind. My plan of desperation had not been well thought out (I would like to point out the word desperation) and I truly was making this up as I went along. Although we had a nearly vacant race course, we had no designated finish line. Therefore we had no stopping point to declare winner, exchange numbers- or better yet, engage in incredible, sweaty backseat sex.

_Yes please. What's that song Kori always sings? Luck be a lady tonight? Luck let me get laid tonight._

I was well into my fantasies and the mid-nineties as I drove down the center lane when somehow my competitor managed to meet my speed on the left lane. I stole one disbelieving look at her, and felt my expression morph into one of mirrored glee. The hair, I deduced, was in fact pink, and her posture was relaxed and unconcerned. Again I wondered if she had done this before. _Have I been conned?_

More importantly though, was her smile, the most confident and self-assured smile I had ever seen in my life. I pushed my car faster, and as I did I corrected myself. No, she wasn't smiling, she was _smirking_.

And that- by far- was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

We sped forward.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part VII: There Should be a New Swearword Invented for this

(Jenny)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As soon as we hit the highway my instincts took over. Suddenly I was sixteen years old, speeding down empty factory parking lots, reminding myself to study for a Monday math test, to get home by my eleven o'clock curfew, and to jiggle the accelerator on my friend's brother's girlfriend's car because it was second hand and broken…

Eight years later I was without tests (taxes instead), had no curfew (just the healthy dread for the following sleep-deprived day), and a functional car.

Functional, though, was the end of it. Initially I had scowled when I realized he was driving a Mercedes, but it quickly became apparent that this guy had obviously no idea how to race. I smirked to myself, realizing that because of experience- my _Chrysler_ was going to beat a _Mercedes_.

Out of practice, I stole a quick look at my opponent- breaking a main rule in doing so- and caught his gaze.

I sucked in a quick breath of air as the temperature rose significantly.

If anyone could make a single stare hot enough for the four-bases chart, this guy would qualify. Suddenly I felt the urge to lick my lips, wink, scowl, and bounce in my seat happily, because as irritated as I was I could quickly fuel that passion into a much more productive manner.

_Calm yourself. It's not like it's been a while…_ I recalled, painfully, my last one-night stand and quickly calculated that it had been six months since then. _Yeah. It's been a while._

Despite all the conflicting impulses, I didn't lick my lips licked, wink, scowl, nor bounce in my seat. Instead I felt my foot punch the accelerator with frustration-induced strength. The car moved forward unsteadily, protesting significantly. "C'mon," I urged, leaning forward in my seat.

Bill Weasley met my speed with insulting ease. "Stupid silver Mercedes," I grumbled and swerved toward him ever so slightly.

Instantaneously it threw him off and he faltered, slowing in the process. I moved forward and simultaneously wondered when the race would be over.

Before I could think I saw a glimpse of the devil himself: red and blue flashing lights in my review mirror. My happily thoughtless, competitive mood crashed down, to the highway road, where I left it behind in my speed. Anger and dread filled me as I gradually inched towards the side of the road

"Son of a _bitch_," I hissed, shaking my head at my utter stupidity. _I'm an absolute idiot! What on earth compelled me to do something so reckless- God, of COURSE there'd most likely be a cop on a highway, there's practically rule number one with racers- Fuck, I can't believe this, I can't afford this ticket, shit, shit, shit, shit, you stupid, irresponsible- oh my God the damn insurance guys are going to KILL me-_

I slowed in sync with Bill Weasley and continued to berate myself over and over again. As the red and blue lights blinded me momentarily, I was filled with a flash of cold fear and panic, and wondered if something this idiotic could danger the Salon, if I needed a lawyer…

I felt near tears as I pulled to a stop on the side of the road.

The Mercedes pulled to a stop in front of me, and my misery turned to rage. There was no one currently lower in my eyes than this guy. With murder on my mind, I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car to face my doom.

There first thing I noticed was that this police officer was big, football linebacker big. Somewhere in my mind, I sincerely hoped this meant he had a Hagrid disposition, and then simultaneously ordered myself to quit with the Harry Potter references. The cop had chocolate brown skin and a broad face that could have been very friendly. But, as to be expected, he was not amused. "Evening ma'am," He greeted politely, to his credit, and then demanded, "Do you have _any_ idea how fast you were going?"

I let out a sigh, not making any effort to say yes or no, so Officer Stone (I checked his nametag) answered for me, "About a hundred and twelve miles per hour,"

As usual, I didn't think before I spoke. Incredulous, I gasped, "My Chrysler made it over a _hundred_??"

Officer Stone momentarily broke his _flinty_ (aren't I punny?) expression and nodded, looking rather impressed himself. "Yeah, tell me- how'd she take it? Did it take long to get up to-," He cut himself off, shaking his eager expression off his face, "That is, I mean, you were in driving in a sixty-five miles per hour speed zone,"

_Yikes_ I flinched, calculating the costs mentally. Suddenly, behind me I heard: "Excuse me? Could I possibly explain the circumstances sir?"

_Somehow I will kill you._ I vowed, infuriated as I finished calculating what would be a very scary ticket.

Officer Stone looked over my shoulder, and motioned him forward. My opponent walked calmly, and I jumped literally when I noticed his height.

This guy had to be taller than Seymour, who was nearly two heads taller than me. That meant he must be either six foot four or five… My neck actually hurt to look up at him, craning backward as I did.

"My name is Wally West," Said the red headed giant, "And I'm afraid this whole thing is my fault-,"

Officer Stone blinked once, "Wait-_West_? Oh my God, _no freakin' way_! I didn't even recognize you-," The cop grinned suddenly, and I glanced over at Wally, bewildered. His expression matched mine, just as bewildered, if not more. He had that deer-in-headlights imitation, the look everyone wears when they're caught with someone they don't remember- but apparently should.

Wally's eyes flashed to the nametag. Instantly his face dawned with recognition and he roared, "Holy shit, _Victor Stone_!" The two men embraced in that bro-hug (back slaps a requirement) immediately, and I stood there awkwardly, crossing my fingers that this meant we were off the hook. _Please be ex-boyfriends on good terms!_ I prayed, but sincerely doubted it. Even if I wasn't so sure that Wally preferred girls (hinted by his heavy flirting), Victor Stone had an air of masculinity about him that would have appealed to even the most resilient girl. Also, I noted, he wore a wedding ring. _Damn._

They exchanged a long amount of "haven't seen you in ages" and "what have you been doing?" Then I listened as the polite inquiring altered and turned into more familiar compatibility. Endlessly I waited through a lot of "son" and "dude" and "dog" and "man" and "awww yeah!" and once a loud roar of "_booyah_!" (I know. But to Wally's credit, it was Victor who said that last one…)

After ten minutes I shifted my weight from my one foot to the significantly lower, heel-less shoe, and Wally immediately noticed my subtle impatience. "Oh, er, Victor we need to get together some time, but…"

Victor nodded, "Sure, sure, um… I go it! We'll meet in court?"

I saw Wally's face fall, knew mine mirrored his, before the muscular man laughed loudly and said, "Naah, I'm just kidding,"

_Oh. Humor. Har._

"But I'm afraid I do have to give you a ticket,"

_Goddamn it._ I thought bitterly, but Wally cheered up considerably. He probably didn't have to worry about measly five hundred dollar speeding tickets… which would explain the Mercedes. I scolded myself internally once more, and then tried to let it go.

So I wouldn't eat for the next month. So what?

"Tell you what," Victor offered, flashing me an encouraging smile, "Just pay it immediately, I can document this incident as some sort of emergency, and no need for a court session or an issue with your insurance, okay?"

Actually, that did help considerably and I smiled back. "Thank you very much, Officer,"

"Call me Victor, uh-…" Victor blinked, "Oh I didn't even get your name. I'll need that, and your license, yours too Wally, _wow_-," He shook his head at himself, and Wally snickered, taking his wallet out of his pocket.

"I'm Jenny Strange," I introduced, and retrieved my purse from the car, digging for my wallet.

"Thank you Jenny," Victor said, taking my license and Wally's. "Alright, I'll be right back with your tickets and… er, well, I'm afraid it's probably going to be a lot," He looked at me when he said this, and I felt a flash of annoyance.

_Is it really so obvious?_

Although I had to admit, next to Wally's impeccable suit-and-tie ensemble, I did look like a wreck. My hair could have used a good brushing; I was lopsided with one high heel and one missing its heel. I felt awkwardly under-dressed in my turquoise skinny pants, white tank top and cardigan.

To make matters worse, I would have to wait to replace these shoes… a month if not more, due to my expensive act of irresponsibility. Again I asked myself, _what were you thinking?_

"What happened to your shoe?" Wally asked suddenly, studying my feet.

I flinched at the reminder and grumbled, "Stiletto vs. drain gate. My shoe lost,"

"Ahh, another episode of man-made object meets man-made object," Wally nodded solemnly.

I tried not to smile at that. For all his faults, he was a little funny. But I reminded myself of these faults, and sighed at the expensive impending ticket. "What was I thinking?" I wondered aloud.

Wally shifted then and cleared his throat. "Look, um… Jenny Strange, you said?"

I looked back up at him, literally looking _up_ in the process. "Yes. Wally West, was it?" The name seemed weirdly familiar, but I couldn't remember why. _Great, this will bother me all night._

Wally grinned down at me, looking very much like he wanted to laugh. "Yes, ah, it is,"

"What?" I asked.

H shook his head, biting his lip.

"_What_?" I demanded.

"Sorry just… you're so much _shorter_ than what I imagined-,"

My mouth fell open. "Screw you, you seven foot _ginger_!"

Wally's eyebrows rose. "I'm sorry, is there something wrong with red hair, Miss _Pink_ Roots and Tips?"

_He did not just insult my hair_. "You know what? You can go to _hell_, you stupid Mercedes driving-,"

"Whoa, you did _not_ just insult my car!" He gasped, in a perfect impression of the offended tone I had taken when he made fun of my hair.

"Well, you _did_ lose," I informed with a careless shrug.

The silence that followed was wonderfully amusing, a mixture of my quiet contentment and his quiet, strangled protest.

"I beg your pardon?" He finally choked out. "We weren't _finished_,"

I stretched and smiled, "Oh? I thought when we got pulled over that was the finish line- and if you recall, I was ahead,"

Wally's mouth opened and closed as he struggled to argue. Crossing his arms, he sullenly said, "We weren't finished,"

I grinned to myself.

"It was a _tie_," Wally insisted. Victor then reappeared, and had apparently overhead. "Dude," He sighed, "You have a Mercedes and you _lost_?"

"It was a tie!" The red head protested.

"That's still insulting to your car," The officer admonished with a disgusted shake of his head. "Here you both go," He handed us the tickets and added in a tired voice, "And, guys seriously… no racing. C'mon. Could get killed, kill others, and all that, you hear?"

"Yes officer," Wally and I both chimed in equally obedient tones. Victor smiled in amusement and waved us off as he turned back to his cruiser.

To avoid the painful suspense I opened my ticket and felt myself pale. "Hmm," I hummed to myself, swallowing my scream of irritation and distress.

Wally glanced over my shoulder and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I was going to say earlier um, let me write you a check for that-,"

Oh, no. Not pity.

"Sorry?" He paused, and I realized I had spoken those words aloud. I sighed and turned to him.

"Look, not that I don't appreciate it, but-,"

"Jenny," Wally interrupted in a serious tone. "Sorry but this is non-negotiable. This is my fault,"

_Yeah it is. _I shook my head at him, "No, I participated,"

"Please," He snorted, shaking his head, "You don't really believe that. You got out of that car like you were on your way to tear my head off. I had to build up the courage to leave my car," He grinned though at the memory, like he had weirdly enjoyed my apparent rage.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't argue with the truth. "Well, I can pay for this myself, so it's not an issue," I lied, shrugging nonchalantly.

Wally raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations, but that's not my point. I don't care if you can pay this, you shouldn't have to,"

_You're right, I shouldn't. _"But money like this doesn't mean a thing," I lied blatantly, "I spend this much on shoes. A week,"

The bright red eyebrow rose even higher. "Then I question your judgment, but still insist on paying,"

_As you should. _"Look, Wally, I appreciate this but-,"

"Cash or check?" Was all he said as he took out his wallet.

"Cash?" I squeaked, and my ruse fell apart. "What kind of person carries _eight hundred dollars_ around with them? God I hate rich people," I snapped, folding my arms.

Wally smiled, "I don't. Do you spell 'Strange' in a… _strange_ manner?" He was writing out a check.

I gave in, with a considerable amount of relief. Now that I thought about it, I would rather eat for the next month than damage my pride any day. "I think puns are the lowest form of humor," I informed coldly, ignoring my earlier, equally lame play on words. "And no, just the normal adjective,"

Irritatingly enough, he did not seem at all affected by my bitchiness. "It's an interesting name. Jennifer Strange, is it?"

"I prefer Jenny," I said immediately, and felt myself grow peeved by the repetition of this conversation. Quickly I changed the subject, "Wally West is a little odd too. Sounds like the name of some rodeo star, or a crime fighter or comic book artist,"

"That's a weird range of jobs, none of which are my own," He chuckled in real amusement as he scribbled in his checkbook.

"So what is it you do, Mr. West?" I asked idly, "Own a Tex-Mex restaurant or something like that?"

Grinning now, possibly in astonishment of my undeservedly rude antics (he _was_ writing me a check), he answered, "Oh something like that," He ripped the check from his book neatly, and the streetlight revealed a shiny pair of cufflinks on his sleeve in doing so.

"Something like that," I repeated quietly, and stared down at the ground.

The check appeared before my eyes promptly, and I plucked it from his offered hand eagerly. "Thank you," I said in real gratitude.

Wally shook his head briskly, "Don't thank me for doing what was obviously right. Although…" He stared down at me with an apprehensive look. "Do you have plans tomorrow night?"

_Tomorrow night? Friday? …Oh. _I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering why on earth he would ask me out.

I hadn't been on my nicest behavior. I had been snarky, sarcastic, obviously financially challenged, bitchy, and disheveled. In fact, I couldn't have possibly displayed all of my worse qualities, even if I had tried.

What's more I obviously wasn't in the same circle as him, that much was apparent just by our cars. I don't know what he did, but it obviously wasn't anywhere near the same category as a salon-owner.

Also, the height thing would be an issue too; I was really getting a crick in my neck talking to him.

Really, he'd be far more suited for someone pretty, tall, and perky. Someone who taught Elementary school and took Yoga classes, and liked skiing or horse back riding and was named something like Emily or Lauren. I thought all this over with approval.

Our relationship was over before it had even started.

I had to say something quickly though, before the pause got awkwardly long.

"I mean," He said quickly, "If you're busy-,"

_Too late_. I sighed and admitted, "I actually am. I have plans with-," _My couch. A pint of peach Grater's ice cream. __The Blue Castle__ by L.M. Montgomery. Having no life whatsoever. _"-my girlfriends. Girl's Night Out. You know," I finished lamely.

Wally smiled to himself, and I felt certain he knew I was lying. "Intriguing," He teased with raised eyebrows, "Some other time maybe?"

_Maybe not._

I shrugged off-handedly and said, "I'm pretty busy, but maybe some night I'll be free, I don't know," I felt almost sorry for him, I usually wasn't this vague and dismissive. Wally wasn't dissuaded though, and held out a business card.

"If you find time," He grinned in amusement warmly, before backtracking toward his car. "Bye Miss Strange," For some unknown reason, he began to laugh and I felt a flash of irritation.

Cruelly, I tossed the business card carelessly into the car and smiled at him widely. "Bye Mr. West," I called, shamelessly carefree as I drove off towards home.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part VIII: …Was It Something I Said?

(Dick)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The tension in the car was so thick; I felt the urge to roll down the window to suck in a breath of fresh air. I desperately thought of different ways to safely approach the subject. It sat in between us, as apparent as a cement wall, but I could not think of any way to break the silence and talk it through.

_Can we just pretend it never happened?_ I thought desperately, knowing that if I said anything even remotely similar, I would be sleeping alone for the next (I grimaced) two to three weeks.

"Kori," I finally said, breaking the unbearable silence. "Please, just let me explain,"

Razor sharp green eyes turned on me, intentionally emotionless. That was when my sex life was in the most danger, when she turned monotone. _Shit._

"What is there to explain, Richard?" She was the only one to call me Richard, and I flinched at her empty tone. _Shit times ten!_

I opened my mouth to speak, but she continued, building up a little bit of emotion as she did. "It's not like this is anything particularly new or eventful. Let's just forget about it,"

Ironically enough, this was exactly what I wanted a minute ago. I knew Kori well enough though, that should I agree, I would be making the wrong choice. And therefore I would suffer.

Unfortunately, I didn't know the _right_ choice. "No, we should talk about this-," I ventured carefully into unknown territory.

"Fine then, let's talk about this," She snapped, whipping around in her seat to glare at me. "How would you feel if you were in my position?"

_Oh thank you God._ I praised the Lord internally, ready with an answer, "I would support you!" I insisted stoutly, "Because I know how much being made partner would mean to you, and if that means I need to deal with a little aggression from my boss every now and again- aggression which everyone, not just you, has to deal with-,"

Kori's mouth fell open, staring at me like I had just told her that I had shot her puppy or that Rachel need to lose weight. "A little aggression?" She repeated, and laughed suddenly, hysterically. "A _little aggression_?? If you knew what I deal with everyday, with that _chauvinistic_ _jerk_- you would never have the nerve to call that 'a little aggression'-, and for your information, you and every other male in Value&Valor have never had to deal with that sexist, egotistical-,"

"Enough, Kori, he _is_ your boss," As soon as the words left my mouth I knew I had made a mistake, but by now it was habit. Frequently I had to stop her from insulting him at the corporation, to keep him from overhearing.

"Don't you_ dare _boss me around, Richard Grayson!" She snapped heatedly, "I get quite enough of that during the day, thank you very much!"

"All I'm saying," I said, trying to placate her, "Is that were the roles reversed, I wouldn't make such a big deal out of this because partner _means so much to you_," I stressed with a sigh.

"No, Richard, if the roles were reversed, I would realize that being made partner is not as important as the daily public humiliation of someone I loved," Her voice thickened then and she turned away. "But that's just me,"

It felt like we had been having this argument a lot lately. Could we get through just one day without arguing about marriage? It made me irritated suddenly and I could help but snap, "Kori, that's not fair. And can we not get into that right now? I hardly think this is the right time to talk about commitment, especially after what happened today,"

"And what happened? What _exactly_ do you think happened?" She asked, back to monotone.

I took a deep breath, staring straight ahead. "It's not so much as what happened, as what didn't happen. If I had Brooks signed today, I'd be that much closer to getting that promotion. That's all it would take to, just _one more_ big-," I trailed off with a sigh, "I just think…" How should I put this?

"Okay look, it's just what a _good_ secretary does. And that _is_ your job. I'm not asking you that much, Kori, really. I never ask you for anything. Really, it's the least you can do,"

There. Logical, calm, and patient. I snuck a peek at Kori, and started. _Bad move apparently._

Green eyes were wide with shock, and her mouth was clenched in a way I hadn't seen before. She opened her mouth once, twice, and finally sputtered, "I thought you realized… I thought you took into consideration, I mean I did all- and helped you-, I called," She was incoherent suddenly, as her babbling turned into rampant French, and her volume escalated higher and higher.

"Kori, stop, wait I can't understand-,"

She was silent suddenly.

I held my breath, and still no response. Afraid to look over, I counted to fifty in my head, waiting hesitantly.

Finally she turned to me. "_Zee least I can do_?" She whispered murderously, slipping into her French accent in her rage.

I had no idea what was going on in her head, but I had the mental image of a road sign, flashing bright red words _Danger! Danger! Danger!_ I blinked then, realizing it wasn't an illusion, but an actual construction sign on the road. I took it as a very bad omen.

"I don't _have_ to help your cases," Kori said in a strange tone. "I don't _have_ to give you advice, or call people for you… I don't _have_ to be used like some _weapon_ to win guys over- or, or," She jaw was trembling she was so furious, and I watched in acute horror as she began to shout, "Or to stay up _passed midnight_ to do some research for you! I don't _have_ to _spy_ on your opponent to give you _tips_ - I don't _have_ to _win_ the cases for you, _no_!," She shrieked then, cutting off my protest, "_No_! _'Zat _is zee _least_ I could do for you, Richard Grayson!"

I watched then as she yanked open the car door, and stormed out, slamming the car door shut with a deafening echo. I was out of the car a second later. "Kori!" I called, running after her, "That's not what I-, you know I appreciate everything you do for me-,"

"I went to _Harvard_ Richard!" She turned on me again, and I felt like I was on completely new territory. I had never seen Kori _this_ upset. "I double majored in _business_ and _political_ _science_, and_ I am_ _NOT_ _just_ _some dumb secretary!"_

"I know, Kori, I know, you're brilliant-,"

"_I should not have to put up 'zat man, with 'zis job,_" She was screaming now, "_Or you!"_

I didn't comprehend what she said at first, I was too thrown off by her rage. "Kori, that's not fair-!"

_Crack!_

My head whipped to a sharp right angle, and my cheek stung with Kori's slap, and the air rang with the ear-splitting smack. A second later, before I could say anything, she swallowed loudly and said, "You don't tell me what's fair anymore. I'm done,"

I only stared. "What?"

Kori smiled and it was the most frightening thing I had ever seen. "I'll turn in my resignation tomorrow. Valor will be angry with me for not giving him more notice, but I can't imagine how he could possibly hate me anymore than he does now," She squared her shoulders and looked straight at me then, "And… I'll come by for my things some time this week,"

I didn't get it. "Why not just get your things tomorrow when you quit?" I asked in confusion, laced with disapproval. I didn't like that she was quitting, but I couldn't think of a way to persuade her otherwise.

"No, Dick-," Since when was I Dick and not Richard?

_Danger! Danger! Danger!_

"-I'll get my things from your apartment,"

"Why would you do that?" I asked, almost tiredly, eager to separate, have her sleep off this anger. Kori stared at me, almost sadly, and my confusion grew. Nothing fit together. _Does she want me to bring her office supplies to my apartment? What else could she mean? _All of a sudden, everything made sense.

And I felt my blood turn to ice.

I sucked in a breath of air. "Oh," _No._

"Yes," Kori nodded and smiled widely, "Maybe I'll come by on Sunday. I'll call you, okay?"

_No. _I felt paralyzed. I could do nothing except stare at her.

"Dick?" She asked in concern, and my mouth twisted.

"You're breaking up with me?" I demanded redundantly. "You're-, you can't-, _are you fucking kidding me Kori_??"

Her smile dropped, and I could see the rage still simmering on her face. "No, I fucking kid you not," She mocked, dropping the F-word for the first time since I'd met her. It sounded odd, unfamiliar, like it had come from a Boy Scout or a little, knitting grandmother.

When I first met her, I wouldn't have been able to imagine her saying it. With a stinging shock, I realized what I had done to her.

Her eyes flashed then, and I sensed an impending insult. Warily I braced myself for the blow, but it was one I wouldn't have ever been able to prepare myself for. With a brutal honesty, she shrugged and said coolly, "I'm only wondering why it took me so long to do it,"

If I were an abusive man, that's when I would have hit her. And I was shocked at this knowledge, and that I had to tell myself that it was not okay to hit girls, but I couldn't remember ever feeling so furious.

A few days ago I would have said it would be impossible to hurt Kori. Right now all I knew was that I wanted to hurt her, _needed_ to hurt her just like she just—

Looking eerily similar to her sister, she cocked her head at me, waiting for a reaction. Cold green eyes took in my painful shock, asked vindictively, _Whoops._ _Did I do that?_

"You know what?" I took a step towards her, and my hands snaked forward and snatched her by the upper arms as she tried to back away. With a sharp tug I pulled her against me, shaking her so she'd look directly at me. Green eyes widened and there was a flash of surprise, fear, and, unless I was mistaken, lust.

Oh yeah, I knew _this_ territory.

"I think you're fucking _full of it, Kori_," My voice shook with rage, even I could hear that, "And I don't think all this… _fury_" I scorned her emotion with a sneer, "This _rage_ of yours, is directed at me or Valor but at yourself, because," My hands tightened over her arms but she didn't reveal any sign of pain, "Because you know deep down that being just a _secretary,_" In went the knife, "Is all you're _good_ for_,"_

Her mouth snapped open to say something equally venomous, and with a sharp tug I pulled her forward. Leaning down and taking advantage of her open mouth, I silenced her with a kiss. She shook her head to break the kiss, and I slipped my hands from her shoulders, digging one through her long, silky hair, grabbing fistfuls of it to hold her in place. My other free arm wrapped around her waist, crushing her against me with a bruising force.

And with her positioned favorably, I poured every ounce of my anger into this one vehement kiss, or rather, assault on the mouth. There was no tenderness about this kiss. My mouth moved against hers in less familiar, harder, faster ways and, without worrying or caring about hurting her, I tightened my hold around her waist for closer access to her mouth.

And for all her fury towards me, she responded, transferring her cold indifference into feverish rage. Even though a majority of her, maybe all of her, was against it, she kissed me back. I could feel her press closer, her silent urge to hold her tighter, and her mouth moved against mine with equal aggression.

I moved forward then, into the alley for more privacy, and didn't stop moving until I took a sharp right and ran into the wall. Every single inch of my body was pushed against her, and she responded with the same pressure. Then, all of a sudden, she whimpered slightly and my actions transformed.

My hands moved up, and cradled her face, and my mouth carefully turned gentle. I threw all my persuasion, my internal plea for her to stay, into this sweeter kiss. She wouldn't leave, there's no way she could possibly leave me. With overwhelming relief, I broke away to take a breath of air, and she took that moment to shove against me with all her strength.

It was the last thing I had expected. I stumbled back, into the opposite wall, and watched as she blinked rapidly, holding one hand to her swollen lips. Somewhere in my mind, I became painfully aware how much my attempt to hurt her had backfired and completely reversed. I felt just as exposed and vulnerable, if not more so.

Because I had been thrilled by her response, and had been reassuring myself that this was not over, that this was just a fight and-…

Hatefully, I smirked and twisted the knife. "No, actually, _that's_ really all you're good for," I amended.

Kori closed her eyes and stiffened against the insult. After a few moments she opened her eyes, her gaze steady and cold. I could see the words pass through her mind. _It's over._

I couldn't help but glare at her as she walked away. Despite everything though, I comforted myself with one thing.

_At least you got the last say. She'll never forget that. _It might have been pathetic, but knowing I had gotten the last witty stab did make me feel better. It was better than nothing.

Bitterly, I watched her go, lamely trying to cope with thoughts like_ that's right _and_ You walk away._

And then she turned and viciously hissed, "If you touch me like that again, I'll have Rachel cut off your namesake,"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**Three apologies:**

**Sorry about the delayed update! I unfortunately have a life, despite all my attempts otherwise.**

**Sorry about the OOC-ness! If it really bothers you, I recommend abandoning the story. My feelings won't be hurt, I promise. Plus, it's better than feeling frustrated in future chapters.**

**Sorry about the angst! It had to be done, though, for a proper grudge war between the two. And I would like to reassure that this is a Kori/Dick story… eventually. =) **

**And with all of this said and done, please review!**

**-Rose**


	3. Chapter 3

Letters to Logic

By Rose

Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans

If anyone was concerned or angry about my absence, I have a seriously great explanation. But it's also very long.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part VII: We're Better than You: A Study of Gingers

(Jenny)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On the morning after my reckless driving, my eyes opened reluctantly as I woke up.

And swore.

"Oh unholy hell."

Redundant, yes, but I must ask you to consider the hour; it was rather early in the morning, after all. Eight o'clock in the morning, to be precise, which is my usual rise-and-shine moment. After unearthing myself from my fluffy white comforter I blinked the crusty sleep residue from my eyes blearily. When this did not work successfully, I decided to scrub it away with my fingers. Sadly my motor-control had not yet woken up and I only managed to half poke myself in the eye and half flop my hands around my face listlessly.

Good.

I cannot reliably recall a morning in which I had not failed at waking up. Not to mention the laborious process of removing myself from my bed. Sleep is my religion. All hail the almighty sandman. I am not kidding.

You see, my general opinion of mornings is as such: any hour earlier than eight o'clock usually goes ignored. Anything earlier than six o'clock is a myth created to frighten immature adults such as myself. I would leap over buildings to get that extra hour of sleep or thirty minute nap. In fact, there were many a moments where I fabricated an illness in order to remain in bed for the rest of the day. Sometimes I was so convincing that I truly believed I was too sick to function and needed immediate and dedicated bed rest.

"Theory," I muttered to myself in the mirror, speaking around my overenthusiastic toothbrush, "Hypochondriacs are really just obsessive fans of sleep. Can you blame them?" My skeptical expression in the reflection answered my rhetorical question. "Of course, that is much better than those poor fools who suffer from… insomnia… shudder, shudder." I paused to spit. "And don't even get me started on narcoleptics. Lucky bastards…"

Right now you are probably pondering my sanity level, but in all seriousness—having conversations with myself was definitely a regular part of my routine. I'd like to explain this strange behavior as a consequence of living alone and not having any roommates, but that would be a giant lie. I talked to myself even when I had roommates around. Well, go ahead then, classify me as a lunatic. Shame on you for not doing so earlier.

My morning continued without interruption. I somewhat regained coherency when I took that first sip of coffee (and damn good coffee at that: Starbucks bold Komodo Dragon blend with a splash of half-and-half). I followed the rest of my routine in neutral gear, which included conversing with whatever inanimate object that would listen, drinking coffee and eating grapes, straightening my hair, and finally slapping on make-up while singing to the fun Lady Gaga song on the radio- "Russian roulette is not the same without a gun. And baby when it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun! OH!" Gotta love it.

I observed the vivid, turquoise green walls of my hallway as I struggled to pull up a criminally tight pair of washed out denim leggings over my thighs. God do I suffer for fashion. I hopped down the bright wooden floors, fastening the pants finally, and looked around my conjoined living room and kitchen for my royal blue knit tee. "Damn you, don't defy me..." I threatened, and my best feline friend Simon blinked at me, hurt.

"Not you," I cooed, tickling his chin, and he purred, mollified. Oh the simpleness of cats.

Spotted! I stepped over the magazine and book cluttered coffee table and grabbed the shirt, stuck between the a bag of laundry and a stack of DVDs from the library on my old red couch. I pulled it on and thought about straightening up the apartment.

Right.

I was still chuckling when I refilled my coffee mug and went to go find a pair of shoes. It was a short trip back to my room. If you haven't figured this out yet, I might as well just tell you: my apartment is tiny. Microscopic. This probably should have made me feel ashamed and poor, but to be perfectly honest? It made cleaning easier when the urge to act like a mature adult arose.

Overall, the apartment consisted of one large, open combination of a kitchen, living room, and dining room. The walls curved in a circle, and the built in countertops curved along with it, creating a circular kitchen area. Near the kitchen I had a hand-me-down wooden table that acted as my dining room table. Currently it was filled with newspapers, a pair of cow boy boots, bills, one lilac arrangement that needed water, and my white cat Simon.

To the right of this dining area was my living room, complete with a red love seat, a basket of crocheted blankets (supplied by the step-madre) and one wheezing television set.

There was a bathroom, a cleaning supply closet, and a cabinet of towels and sheets along the hallway. My bedroom was the only other sizable room, and was painted a vivid bright blue. I had lots of windows, a full bed, a dresser with a propped up mirror, and a very nice closet. I marched to said closet and grabbed a pair of white sling-backs with bright red cherries in the fabric.

I smiled, fully awake and high of sassy shoes.

"Something tells me I'm into something good!" I sang happily as I kissed Simon goodbye. He agreed, "mrow." I checked the sunflower shaped clock in the kitchen and made my way towards the door, grabbing my coffee mug and my bright red purse as I left.

I walked carefully down the stairs, determined to make-up for yesterday's dismal failure and felt pathetically accomplished when I reached the bottom without trouble. The sun was out but the air was cool and sweet. I walked towards the parking lot, testing fate as I thought, it's going to be a good day. I rounded the corner and came face to face with my car. The sight of my black Chrysler wiped the smile from my face immediately. Feeling sick, I recalled my previous night: a ginger named Wally West, wildly illegal racing/road flirting, some cop who said "booyah!" and the huge, scary ticket…

The blood returned to my face then, when I remembered the check sitting in my purse. Right. Thank you God.

The rest of the night was easy enough to recall and I was hit by every single bitchy detail. I pressed my lips together in uncomfortable guilt.

Thank you Wally, I should say. It was seriously nice of him to write me the check, even though I acted like a psycho-bitch with a capital 'C.'

"Well I guess I destroyed that possibility..." I muttered as I slid into my slightly stuffy car. I rolled down the windows as I started the car, shaking my head at myself. I mean, sure a relationship with that kind of guy was impossible, but I didn't have to be so rude.

"He'll find his kind and pretty yoga-instructor named Lauren," I reassured myself as I drove. Even if he had, for some reason, asked me out. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. You see, this is the sort of thing that makes men and women hopelessly unable to understand each other.

You think you understand guys and what they want- which is usually either a relationship and sex, or just sex. If you aren't in the mood- and the guy isn't a rapist who doesn't take no for an answer- you can dissuade their efforts with extreme amounts of bitchiness that will send them galloping away in retreat.

But not this guy.

I pursed my glossy pink lips and considered his reaction. He definitely smiled, which either meant he didn't take my reaction seriously... or he is one of those guys who likes a challenge?

"Fabulous. I am now a conquest to be conquered," I grumbled, stopping abruptly at a stop light.

Simmer down on the bitchiness. It's still too early in the morning. Plus he paid for your speeding ticket, miserable shrew.

Damn you conscience. I replaced my annoyance towards him with annoyance towards myself. (Productive, thy name is Jenn).

My moodiness diminished soon enough as I drove closer to my salon. Like many people who start their own business, going to work made me feel like a parent attending their child's baseball game or spelling bee. Even on a morning of insecurity and rampant mood swings, ridiculous amounts of satisfaction rushed through me as I parked my car.

I adored my salon, even before it was a salon. As soon as I saw the "Gone out of Busyness" sign on Maude's Aerobic Studio, I grabbed that misspelled sign and embraced it as I fell in love with the possibility of running my own salon. When it became a reality, I grew even more infatuated with my dream. Today, as a pleased owner of a respectable hair and nail salon, I felt I could comfortably say I was still in the honeymoon stage in my relationship with Jinxed.

But as beloved to me as the salon may be, I couldn't really feel properly content with my business as I pulled into the parking lot. With peeling paint, a crooked open sign, and a big sign with Jinxed spelled out in sporadically burned out light bulbs, my business was a rather sad sight to see. It looked particularly pathetic next to a really well kept post office, a trendy coffee shop, and an equally attractive flower shop. Like an acne ridden nerd between two pretty cheerleaders.

Don't be self-conscious! You have a great personality! I wanted to say while embracing the wall of my salon, but that probably wouldn't be a good way to invite potential clients...

It wasn't as though my salon stood on the edge of bankruptcy. I know I don't seem mentally stable but I turned out to be weirdly good at this... running a business thing. I kept up to date with the finances and inventory. Advertising was a pain but a requirement. I had a growing list of pleased regulars, and a talented staff. That being said... I didn't exactly have the success I had hoped and dreamed of either. And, God, did I want it. My staff and I had so much potential... we deserved crowns, damnit.

After a minor detour I walked into the store, straightening the sign as I did. The smell of shampoos, soaps, perfume, and the slightest whiff of hairspray made me relax as I breathed in the heavenly mixture of sandalwood, Aveda and Aveeno products, and general chemicals. Entering boss-mode, I gave a quick sweep of the salon with my eyes.

With washed out purple walls, sheer curtains, and bright and clean white tile floors, the inside of Jinxed certainly made me proud. I ended my quick survey of the store with the counter, where an arrangement of pink gerber daisies sat. It was impossible not to smile after that, those kinds of flowers are like it an instant anti-depressant.

"Good morning," Audrey greeted brightly, seated next to the happy flowers and working at the computer. She also looked like the most adorable, albeit slightly Goth, version of T.V. Land's adored Lucy. Her latest get-up consisted of a short tailored white house dress with red tea pots all over it, white bobby socks, black Mary Janes, heavy yet still tasteful eye make up, and a red hair ribbon.

And like many other females, I took her outfit in with approval and announced, "I hate you."

Audrey the adorable emo oddity knew me too well to be offended. Beaming, she blushed happily and admitted, "Thanks! I tried to look cute today."

"You redefine cute everyday," I grumbled with sincerity, catching Seymour's eye as he chatted with a customer. I wondered briefly if he had asked her out yet.

You had all last night, I thought this over, with a hint of accusation. I was going to give him merry hell if he chickened out. No one likes a pansy.

Making a mental note to ask him later, I unloaded my burden onto the counter. "Coffee for everyone," I informed Audrey, who looked extremely grateful. "And a brownie for you too," I presented with a dramatic flourish. I stopped her babbling thanks by explaining, "I am not against favoritism. It promotes competition and better workers." I winked at her and walked away to make my rounds.

Seymour was coloring the hair of a favorite client of his, Magnolia Bell, who loudly welcomed me as I wandered over to his area. "I'm going blonde this time," She informed in a scandalized voice and I smiled wryly.

"They do have the most fun."

Magnolia, a very hot- for an older chick- high school drama teacher in her mid-forties, smirked slightly and said, "That's sort of what I'm hoping for." Knowing her history of long-winding relationships, I laughed and congratulated her. "Good for you! Who's the lucky guy this time?"

I listened as she updated me on her latest catch: an air racer, of all things, who performed stunts at 250 miles an hour in a jet plane. He was also ten years younger than her. "He's practically an infant! I feel like I'm old enough to be his mother!" She lamented, looking away unhappily.

"Only if you were doing kinkier things than me in third grade," I snorted, perking her right up as she laughed. "I say go for it!" I encouraged, imagining a crazy love affair with moderate envy. "He's crazy if he passes you up,"

Magnolia nodded and then smiled wistfully. "Maybe. He said he had a thing for blondes…"

"Then he's going to love what Seymour does to you, honey," I declared firmly, watching her smile settle with reassurance.

"When I'm done with you, Mags, you're going to look spectacular," Seymour promised, "You were born to be a blonde."

With considerable tact I refrained from mentioning that he had said the same thing when she went auburn, chestnut brown and bright fiery red, and instead moved on to other clients. A new employee, Larry Richards, was chatting happily with a young, plump teenage girl. Larry was rather short, a bit spherical in the belly, very cheerful, and already a popular demand. He had a self-deprecating sort of humor that made teenagers like him, and was very silly when dealing with little children. From the way the girl was smiling at her reflection, I could tell she'd ask for him the next time she came back.

I moved on to Russian giant Red Starsly, who looked like he'd be better suited working as a beefy sailor rather than a hair stylist. At the moment he was carefully cutting a tired looking woman's hair, listening as she bitterly complained about her in-laws. Celia Forge was her name, and she always asked for Red. Probably because Red was the type of worker who never spoke unless it was necessary. Which was preferable for Celia who loved to complain to anyone who would listen. I passed them by without concern.

That left me with Tara Markov, a friendly hair stylist who was always favored by younger regulars. She was also a master with any sort of waxing- particularly an artist with eyebrows. Right now she was gossiping happily with a pre-teen, carefully cutting the girl's dark blonde hair into a flattering bob. As I passed by, she caught my eye and grinned, mouthing "thanks for the coffee". I smiled and moved on, finally finished with my rounds and returned back to Audrey.

"Enjoy the brownie?" I asked, glancing at the empty wrappings.

She eyed me seriously. "Love you." I smiled and listened as the door opened and the bells attached rang happily.

I turned to greet the customer with a ready smile, which fell off my face into an immediate scowl when I saw that it was Gary Miko, otherwise known as "Gizmo".

"You're late, you miserable good-for-nothing," I hissed angrily, lowering the volume of my voice in case a customer heard.

Gizmo, an astonishingly immature and vertically challenged teenager, sneered predictably. Without waiting for a snide remark, I coldly ordered, "Find a ladder and replace the burned out light bulbs in the sign."

Whip lash, bitch. He shuffled away and my day got brighter with his absence.

The day continued, and was moderately busy. Clients came and left with happy expressions on their faces. Audrey and Larry switched positions, and she took over nails while he charmed everyone that walked into the door. I cheerfully berated Seymour for his inaction with Audrey and teased him when he blushed. Then I threatened to fire him when he threw tweezers at me. I also rinsed, plucked, waxed, washed, curled, colored, and cut client's hair when Larry had to leave early to pick up his son from school.

It was during a quiet afternoon hour when the door opened and bells rang. Seated at the counter and doing a quick inventory of supplies, I looked up with a ready smile. "Hello, welcome to…" Holy damn. "Ah... Jinxed."

My smile dissipated as I took her in. While I may be experimental—gay I am not, but I had to appreciate the beauty of this girl. She could have easily been a model with her height and phenomenal physique. As if this weren't enough, I painfully observed that this girl could star in hair commercials with her gorgeous face and lovely red hair.

Ka-pow! Another ginger shoots a bullet in my insecurity. I might as well have been an ogre next to this girl... was also a wreck, looking ready to scream or burst into tears or some scary combination of both. Besides this distressed expression, she also wore a wrinkled black jacket and gray blouse and black dress pants. I wanted to tell her to change into dark brown corduroy skinny pants, a loose white cotton blouse and a funky vest for an equally professional yet much cuter style, but I bit my tongue and instead asked cautiously "What can I do for you?"

The goddess in a suit said nothing but ran a hand through her long, naturally red hair. Initially I blanched. It seemed criminal to change such beautiful hair, roughly on par with throwing a nose ring on the statue of liberty, or shaving Jesus's beard.

Then I paused and thought about it. Hair like hers would be wonderful to work with; she looked like one of those clients who could pull off any style. Her head was the perfect shape for an extreme cut, should she want it, and she was also beautiful. Who cares what she did with her hair? With growing excitement, I nodded silently. "Okay. I'll take care of you. Come with me,"

I guided her through the salon and sat her down on a black leather chair. Seymour, working with a woman with a dandruff problem, glared at me. Tara, trimming the hair of a woman with a bad perm, eyed my client jealously. I smiled smugly, thrilled with the opportunity to work with such beautiful hair. Running my hands experimentally through the red locks, I contemplated different changes. "Any idea in particular? It's very healthy, but could use a trim. We could add layers, or bangs? I think you could pull off straight bangs very well," I met her eyes in the mirror, startled by their vivid green color. Her hair slipped out of my hands as she shook her head.

After a deep breath she swallowed firmly, and ordered in a firm, grim voice, "Cut it all off."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part VIII: The True Meaning of Sacrilege

(Dick)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The coffee was cold.

I hated my life.

As I stepped out of the elevator, I placed the offensive coffee mug on a nearby filing cabinet. My scowl deepened. Although I had prepped myself all morning for this moment, I was still bitterly disappointed when I saw Kori's empty desk. Next to it was Wally, who held a coffee mug and looked distinctly puzzled by the unoccupied desk.

With my co-worker distracted, I took this opportunity to rearrange my expression into something that resonate something so pathetic. Time to morph from "why'd you kick the kitten?" to "I'm a man that wears old spice and rides a horse and feels totally stable."

Why do I get the feeling that these internal conversations with myself are just killing hundreds of brain cells?

"Hey," Wally greeted, and I flinched at the sight of his bright red hair. From this point forward, red heads would be a sore spot. I briefly wondered if I could convince Wally to go blonde.

"Where's Kori? She sick or something?"

Or bald.

I struggled to unclench my jaw before biting out the answer, "No. She quit," I vowed then and there to never speak her name again, and christened her "she-who-must-not-be-named".

That's right. I lumped you with Voldemort. Stick that in your juice box and suck it. …Did I just really think that? God, I need to stop hanging out with Logan.

Wally's irritatingly red eyebrows shot up.

I could say "have you ever considered blonde eyebrows?"

"You're kidding. Valor is going to flip a shit, I can't believe this," He smiled in admiration and took a deep sip of coffee.

No really, it'll look great. You should totally do it. Like, right now.

"You got to admit though," He said with a frustratingly fond smile, "She deserved better."

…

About eleven minutes later I was still apologizing for Wally's bloody nose, still offering to pay for the blood and coffee stains on his suit jacket, and still unable to properly explain my violent reaction.

"I'm so sorry- let me pay for-I don't know what came over me-,"

"Dick, seriously it's fine." His voice was thickened from his nose pinched with blood soaked paper towels. I blinked and a few seconds later, he admitted, "Well, actually, it's not really, don't ever pull that shit again, man. But I won't hold a grudge."

We were in the bathroom, surrounded by a pile of bloody paper towels. Wally shrugged casually, still managing to smile somehow. "I mean, sometimes we forget to take our meds, no big deal."

I chuckled once half-heartedly, floored by his insanely good nature which made me look like the biggest bastard who ever deserved the name Dick. I honestly couldn't believe he wasn't returning the punch, or even speaking to me, let alone joking with me. The way he looked at me in scrutiny, his eyes narrowed, did not look like an expression of pissed off irritation. No, his stare was more reminiscent of a sincere, bewildered, are-you-okay look. I felt like hell. "God I am such a prick," I sighed, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"Well you are, but I've always suspected as much," Wally told me nonchalantly, and I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. "All I want to know is what I said to have deserved such overreaction."

"Nothing," I said dishonestly, "I mean, nothing you could have known or…" I shook my head, half confused and half overwhelmed by self-disgust. "I seriously am sorry. You can punch me back if you want."

"Rain check," Wally decided, pouring cold water on a new paper towel to clean his bloody face. "It's not because of yesterday is it?"

I stared at him, unsure of my expression.

The tall lawyer frowned in reprove. "Because as much as you want partner, I'm not going to do a lousy job for you. And look, I'm proud of signing Brooks. I'm not trying to be a threat but-,"

"Oh!" I interrupted, understanding finally. "No, jeez Wally, it's not that at all, it's just… It's not that. Are you sure you don't want me to pay for dry cleaning? I really don't mind."

Suddenly his expression altered, and was instantly wiped clean of emotion. I felt a sweep of uneasiness by this sudden change in direction. Wally eyed me carefully. "Where did you say Kori was exactly?" His gaze was steady, deductive, and calm. It was the same face he always wore in court.

After a long, painful silence, I looked away from his bright blue eyes. "I wouldn't know," I said almost inaudibly. I cleared my throat and said in a pathetically remote voice, "She left me."

Wally drew in a sharp intake of air, and I didn't have to look up to know he was wearing a sympathetic expression. "Oh shit, Dick, I'm sorry."

My agreement, though unspoken, hung in the air, and I turned swiftly to study the tiled wall to avoid addressing his pity face. After a few seconds of silence, I found I literally had nothing to say. Thank you? Me too? I need a hug?

Everything that came to mind either embarrassed me too much to mention, or sounded too petty. Wally, on his part, clearly wasn't sure if he should add on or wait for me to say something. I listened to him shift his weight from one foot to the other.

And so, with my silence, and his uncertainty how to continue, and a pile of blood stained paper towels surrounding us… The awkwardness set in.

Yeah.

I attempted to distract myself by studying the décor of the bathroom, but there was really nothing to appreciate, other than cleanliness. I had always suspected the women's bathroom to be much more extravagant, but had never bothered to ask She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Bitterness, guilt, and longing washed through me like a vindictive tidal wave. Of all the things I regretted, this one hit me like a spear to the chest. Why the hell hadn't I asked? I often wondered about it. It wouldn't have taken a lot of energy. I would have just walked up and asked her, "So, tell me. What's your bathroom like?"

Knowing her, she would have laughed and told me some huge lie, detailing some sort of palace of a bathroom.

I shook myself, trying to forget her laughter. Enough.

At the same time, though, I still found myself intensely curious. I eyed Wally, who looked positively uncomfortable and baffled in this ridiculous situation. To busy himself, he pressed a clean paper towel to his dry nose and studied the ground. I could practically see him going through different things to say in his head, and reject them as too sentimental.

…I could say "Fancy a visit to the lady's room?"

I saw his appalled face in my head and had to bite back a laugh. There were way too many sexual connotations in that sentence. Well, maybe just one. But that was one too many for me.

Wally cleared his throat then, and I wondered how long we had been standing in silence. "So… I don't know how to say this but. Well…"

I threw him a life line. "Just spit it out. You don't have to worry about, er, sheltering me."

He smiled quickly, and said in a rush, "Okay. Are you sure it's for certain, this time? It could be just temporary right? I mean, how many times have you broken up?"

I felt my face tighten. "Every single time we broke up, I instigated it. And there was a mutual understanding that it would be temporary, just a break," I grimaced a little at the term and added, "Not this time. This time she… Kori basically told me to have a nice life," Who the hell was I kidding? Her name was one of my favorite words to say. I couldn't just delete it from my vocabulary.

Wally simply radiated sympathy. "Hey, I'm sorry. You know, if you ever need to talk, as lame as it sounds, I'm here,"

I sighed in aggravation and wished I hadn't said anything. Wally's sarcastic irritation in the repercussion of my abuse, even his initial outraged fury, had been much easier to handle than this compassionate sympathy.

Unable to bring myself to answer, I swallowed hard and made for the doorway, unwilling to listen to Wally's pity for another moment.

The day dragged on slowly, taunting me with its molasses-like pace, and I felt myself wandering all over my office. I did everything except work; I couldn't focus on a single task, and I seemed to just flip between watching the clock and staring at a framed picture of Kori and me. It had been taken in September, at the park where we and a bunch of friends had played soccer one afternoon. In the picture Kori wore an old Harvard sweatshirt and I had my arms wrapped around her from behind. We were both were half grinning, half laughing. We looked like we were ten years old. It was one of my favorite pictures.

With a scowl I slapped the frame face down.

Feeling antsy, I rose from his desk and grabbed the empty coffee mug. I didn't want to see Valor again; my boss had stormed into his office, predictably ballistic over Kori's abrupt resignation. I hadn't been able to bring myself to sit through another one of Valor's temper tantrums, especially one about Kori, and had rudely told him to let me do my work in peace.

I wandered through the halls in boredom, unwilling to venture into the break room. Although I knew I would find coffee there, I would also have to face the barely disguised eagerness of my female coworkers. Which would be irritating and overwhelming.

So I settled then for visiting Wally, and was a little touched when the red haired man saw me and quickly got off the phone with a client to talk to me. "Hey big guy," Wally greeted cautiously. "Want to go out to lunch?"

I blatantly announced, "I need a drink."

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

Ten minutes later, I sat at a barstool, brooding over a gin and tonic. To my left, Wally took a deep sip of his Corona. He would drink Corona… I mused idly.

"So," Wally ventured, "Ready for a heart-to-heart?"

I grunted noncommittally, and took a sip of my drink. My friend nodded in understanding and prompted, "So you guys had a fight?"

Well duh. I wanted to say, and it must have come across in my expression. "Right," Wally said, and cleared his throat. "…So I think I fell in love last night?"

I paused mid-motion to take another sip. "What?" I asked out of curiosity, shaken from my sulking.

"I'm in love," He stated comfortably, as though he had just answered an inquiry about his mother's health or what car he drove. Continuing, he ignored my stunned expression and described, "Her name is Jenny Strange, and I saw her when I pulled up to a red light. She was in the car next to me." He took another sip of beer, smiling at the memory.

I raised an eyebrow, trying to picture the scene. "How did you get her name?"

"We engaged in an intense street race."

I began to chuckle despite my dark mood until I noticed Wally hadn't joined me, or followed up with the truth. "Wait… wait, for real?" I asked, suddenly uncertain as to whether or not he was kidding.

"Oh yeah, we tore up the highway. It was some kind of awesome," he said, his tone full of awe.

Shocked, I choked on a mouthful of liquor. I swallowed hard and sputtered, "What? Are you insane?"

Wally shrugged, possibly unsure of the answer, "I can't explain it. I saw her, and I thought 'I must have her',"

"…So you raced her?"

Wally nodded, smiling.

"Jeez. Well, don't pull that again, Casanova, because if you had gotten caught-,"

"We did. Get this, Victor Stone- remember him? He pulled us over," Wally kept smiling as he finished his beer, while I gaped at this excess of information.

For the first time I genuinely smiled. "Victor, huh? Small world. How is he? God, I haven't seen him in years."

"Married," Wally informed with an uncharacteristic smirk.

My mouth dropped. "No way. Single Stone?"

"Ha! I forgot he called himself that! I'm meeting him for drinks on Saturday to reminisce. Come and join the nostalgia."

Chuckling once, I nodded in agreement. "Wait, so did he give you a ticket?"

"Eight hundred bucks."

I whistled in amazement. "You're an idiot. I can't believe you did that, spent eight hundred just to talk to the girl."

"Sixteen hundred. I paid for hers too."

I set my drink down this time, staring at him. "You did what? West, I'm serious now, are you really insane? Were you telling me the truth about the 'forgetting to take your meds' crack? Answer me honestly."

Wally shrugged, smiling in memory. "I don't know. I felt compelled to, I mean, it was my own fault for initiating the race, and she looked so miserable when she saw the ticket…"

I stared at him, dead pan.

"…And I wanted to get into her pants something awful," Wally admitted quickly, raising his hand to get the bartender's attention. "Want another?"

I nodded, still taking this all in. "Wow. Well then, when are you two going out?"

Wally grimaced and asked for another two beers. Raising my eyebrows I asked, "What? She didn't… did she say no?"

"I prefer to think she's playing hard to get."

"Dude…" I said sympathetically, and mentally told myself to seriously stop spending so much time with Logan. I was beginning to sound like him.

"Hey, if I can't pity you, you can't pity me," Wally declared in annoyance, and I was suddenly painfully reminded of my own pathetic love life.

"Thanks for that. I'd almost forgotten," I grumbled and took a couple sips of my drink. "I seriously can't believe she dumped me. I mean, she completely overreacted."

Wally tactfully avoided saying anything and kept his expression clear. "What was the fight even about?"

"Work. Valor. Her job. Getting partner," I listed unhappily. "She was upset because I didn't defend her from Valor, which I apologized for."

"Yeah, but how many apologies does that make? And what do they even matter if you don't do anything to prevent ever having to say you're sorry again?" Wally asked and I gaped blatantly.

"Uh..."

He smiled kindly, "Sorry, keep going."

I thought about where I left off, and began again, determined to not be shamed by Wally's judgement. "Anyway, she started talking about how tough her job is and how he makes her life hell, and I told her that dealing with him was just part of her job."

Wally groaned quietly, shaking his head at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing, go on."

"What?"

"You fucked up, keep going."

Irritated, I continued. "So she went completely ballistic,"

"When? What did you say?"

I paused, trying to remember. "I reminded her she was a secretary."

Wally's mouth fell open. "You did what?"

I scowled, "Okay, what the fuck is wrong with that? It's true! It is her job!"

"Yeah, but you don't point it out. Calling her a secretary is like an insult to her, you know the position has all these uneducated implications attached. Plus, it's just a painful reminder that she's overqualified for the job, I mean she double majored in Harvard, didn't she?"

I stared at him, hearing a replay of Kori's angry exclamations. "God, how do you know all of this? How do you know how girls think?" I demanded in amazement and irritation.

"Four sisters," He informed solemnly. "Three older, one younger. I paid attention. I speak Girl fluently."

"God," I repeated, shaking my head. "Well, she accused me of treating her like I she was just a secretary… which she is," I added in annoyance. "Or was."

Wally shrugged, "I dunno, she does a lot of other stuff too. Didn't she help you with the McKenna case? And I know she and her sister got some dirt on Litman, right?"

"Wally, shut up."

"You are such a son of a bitch," His eyes narrowed in disbelief, "She helped you on Everdeen too, the one that Valor always talks about, right?"

"Go to hell."

He glanced away, muttering under his breath, "I'd break up with you too."

I glared at the red head in heated irritation. "It doesn't matter anyway. She broke up with me, it's over. I'm not apologizing for what I said if we're over," I said stubbornly. Wally didn't say anything for a while.

Finally he said, "What are you going to do if you see her?"

I finished my last sips of beer. "Nothing. I'll just look through her, like I really couldn't care less. I re-christen her She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"What…like, Voldemort?"

"The female version."

"Damn. Well, that settles it. You really do hate her," Wally smirked, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

"No," I protested as I shook my head, "No, that's the thing. I don't. I feel absolutely nothing for her."

Beside me, Wally eyed the collection of finished drinks on the cracked gray countertop. "Right."

Ten minutes later we were riding up the elevator, arguing about each other's alcohol preferences. "Are you serious, Wally? You like Martinis?"

"Shut up. It is not a gay drink, don't even say it. You're just boring."

"Do you like little umbrellas in your drinks too?"

"You know what? Yeah, I do. But feel free to feel manly and assured with your hard liquor and dull preferences... which aren't overcompensating for anything."

Behind this silly banter, I felt much more controlled and relaxed. I was even a little eager to return to my office. This time I'd throw all my energy into work, and wouldn't have the time to think about Kori. Much more efficient.

Feeling somewhat better, I watched the elevator doors slide open and stepped into the open room outside of Valor's office. It was not empty, I immediately noticed, and glanced over at a tall woman stacking things on Kori's desk.

Her back was to us, but I saw gold heels, similar to a pair Kori had in her closet. She wore dark brown, skinny pants, a loose white shirt and a tight blue sweater. Her hair, bright red, was cropped in a short, choppy style.

"Oh my God," Wally gasped in disbelief, and the woman turned.

There stood Kori, only it wasn't her. Kori had long, beautiful red hair. This woman's hair barely came passed her ears, and was in a messy disarray about her face. It was sexy, it was sassy, and it made her looked strangely younger. This was Kori, reborn.

Wally recovered almost immediately, and offered a smile. "Wow, hey Kori." She smiled her sweet smile, the smile that said "I'm seriously thrilled to see you" at Wally. My smile.

I exploded.

"What the blessed hell did you do to your hair?"

Turning to me, Kori's smile altered and turned crooked. It was not the sweet smile I was used to, or the condescending smirk from last night. "Hello. I'm fine, thanks. Yes lovely weather we're having," She rolled her eyes. "I got a haircut, obviously. Hello Wally, how are you?"

Wally shook his head. "You're playing with fire, kiddo. Don't get me involved,"

I realized then, I was shaking from rage. Her hair was gone. Her. Hair. Was. Gone. I felt like a skipping record, unable to do anything but recite the same line over and over like a really ineffective lifeline.

I thought of her long hair, the luxurious silkiness of it. How it felt brushed against my chest, under my chin, through my fingers… I remembered moments where she asked me to brush it, memories where I rubbed my face in it, times where I wrapped it around my wrists, refusing to let her go.

"What… Why…" I stuttered, glaring straight into her eyes, unable to look at her sheared hair.

"It got tired of being your leash," She said simply, grinning as she ran a hand through her hair. "I can't tell you how good it feels."

Whoever cut her hair is going to die.

I heard Wally suck in a breath behind me, and say, "Okay! Let's just calm down-,"

Die slowly.

"You spiteful bitch!" I hissed, staring at her with as much disgust as I could conjure up. "I can't believe you cut your hair just to piss me off!"

Kori's eyes narrowed with contempt. "Not everything's about you, conceited! Did it ever occur to you I was tired of long hair?"

"So 'it got tired of being your leash' has nothing to do with me then? Is that how I was supposed to read that?" I poured as much lawyer-ly condescension as I could into my logical retort.

Realizing I was right, she stopped short and flushed with real rage.

Pwn'ed bitch.

Eyes bright with fury, she snapped, "Oh, you can shut the hell up, Dick Grayson! As far as I'm concerned, I'll be happy if I never have to see or talk to you again!"

By now I was growing used to the sting of her comments. In fact her new hairstyle complimented her angry expression. Her long hair didn't really fit with her scowls, but this new look made her seem… almost edgy. Not that I liked it. Because I didn't. Not even a little.

It was extremely not-sexy and didn't make me want to lick the suddenly exposed long curve of her neck.

...Right.

"Right," I nodded mockingly, "You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart. So tell me, what did you do, take a pair of scissors to yourself?" I decided no, I was not above making fun of her foreign hair. If I had to be childish, damnit, I would be childish.

Kori's mouth fell open, "No you insufferable twat, I got it done at Jinxed, and why do you even care what I do with my hair? It's not your business!"

"Yes it is!"

"Not anymore!"

Wally cleared his throat, "Um, guys, you're being really loud-,"

I cut him off, shaking my head in disbelief, "Okay fine. So you just woke up this morning and felt compelled to chop off all your hair at that run down trashy little salon?"

"You are such an unbelievable prick," Kori shrieked as her voice leaped up two octaves and her eyes widened in outrage, "Don't you dare insult that salon—Jinxed is not trashy!"

Though I didn't particularly care about the store, I snarled for the sake of arguing, "Trust me, that dump is three weeks away from going out of business!"

"Jinxed is not going out of business! It will never, ever go out of business, and if I have to make it my personal life's mission to see that happen I will! But I won't have to do that because Jenny Strange has more intelligence, intuition, and talent than a useless idiot like you could ever hope of achieving, you, you… jerkface!"

Three things happened simultaneously:

I burst out laughing.

Wally's head snapped up as he asked in unhidden delight, "Wait, Jenny who?"

Valor stormed out of his office, his expression venomous as he demanded, "What the devil is going on out here?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part IX: This Can't be Good

(Rachel)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The parking bench was a tad bit uncomfortable and placed in way too much sunlight for my state of mind. I shifted a little, picked a little at the bold green paint, and glared at every single guy that made eye contact with me.

Today was not a proud day for men anywhere. I thought this over with slightly curled lips and narrowed eyes, remembering the fight I had encountered with my on-off again boyfriend Malcolm Draco two nights ago.

Should have known anyone with the last name of such a wimpy character would be just as insufferable, I told myself bracingly, trying not to dwell on his cutting insults.

Nevertheless, this 'frigid, unfeeling bitch' felt a little like sitting in the darkest corner table in Poet's Place, eating a slice of Bitter Chocolate Death, and thinking dark thoughts about the male populace. Starting with Dick Grayson: the Wonder Fuck Up.

I glanced at the towering building in front of me, and wondered how much time had passed since I last checked my phone for the time. Kori had been gone quite a while now, and had promised it wouldn't take that long to grab her things…

When five minutes passed, I told myself that Kori just had a lot of stuff to pack up. Knowing her, she was probably packing everything carefully, making sure everything fit immaculately into one box.

And then ten minutes rolled on by, and I sighed and shifted on the bench outside of Value&Valor. Ten minutes was a little much… but maybe she had stopped to talk with a co-worker. Everyone was friends with Kori so that wouldn't be unusual.

After fifteen minutes, I got a little anxious. Was she talking with her boss? Did I need to go in there? Kori had assured me she would be only a short period of time, and fifteen minutes was a bit of a stretch for 'just a moment'.

When twenty minutes passed, I got up and marched into the huge building, but as soon as I walked in I realized I had no idea where to go. Usually I just met Kori at the door when we went out to lunch, and had always declined when she asked if wanted to see the building. God only knows how much her job would be in jeopardy if I ever met her sexist boss. Undeterred, I marched over to the elevator and pressed the up arrow.

The doors opened and I walked into the flawless, fancy elevator. On a whim, I decided to try the sixth floor, but before I could I heard a familiar voice call, "Hold the elevator please!"

I stopped the closing door with my foot, and watched Logan Garfield stumble into the elevator. "Thanks!" He said sincerely, gratitude etched into the short remark. I watched him fumble with his briefcase, noting inwardly how much he looked like a kid playing 'work' with his parent's briefcase.

I melted a little, despite my bad mood. If any guy could be spared my rage, it was Logan. I smiled crookedly at his young, friendly face.

"Sure thing, Logan. How are you?" My anger drifted away, didn't disappear- but left me for a little while, as though Logan was a breeze of temporary peace. I listened to his average response, and noted with surprise that I was actually a little happy to see him. Logan was one of those people who got along with everybody and rarely got angry. Over the last year since I had first met him, he had shot up from medium height into a tall frame, and seemed to be adjusting to the change with difficulty. His bumbling gawkiness was endearing though, and I smiled slightly as he tripped over his own feet to stand against the wall.

"Um, which floor?" He asked politely, nervously. His forest green eyes flashed down at my chest, and then snapped up to my eyes, and I raised my eyebrows a little.

"Actually, I'm not sure. Do you know which floor Kori's office is?"

Logan nodded with a big smile, "Yeah, um, eight, uh-…" He pressed it and shoved his hands into his pockets. While Wally and Dick both looked very much like lawyers in their suits, Logan unfortunately looked a little like an overgrown private school student.

I smoothed my shirt a little, glancing down at my own outfit of black cigarette pants, black cage shoes, and a long dark plum silk blouse. I looked like a morbid mixture of an emo girl and a starving artist. What an odd pair we made.

"So, how have you been?" Logan asked hesitantly.

I smiled at him. "Oh alright. Poet's Place was mentioned in the paper in a really nice review."

"That's great!" He cheered, smiling hugely. "I think it's the best restaurant in the city."

To my infinite disgust my cheeks reddened a little, but I couldn't bring myself to feel angry with him for making me blush. It was my own fault for getting so worked up about a simple compliment, not his. "I appreciate that Logan, thanks."

He blushed too, much more than I, and looked away with a modest shrug. I turned to him again as we rose passed the fifth floor, "How is Tanya?" I vaguely remembered he had a girlfriend from the last Christmas Party Kori and Dick had thrown. Blonde, irritatingly skinny, a little flighty…

Logan looked up in confusion, "You mean Tara? Oh, you-, you've not heard-," He smiled a little ruefully, "We broke up a month ago, on fairly friendly terms."

"Oh," I said in surprise, "I'm sorry, I did not know."

"It's fine!" He reassured quickly, "What about you and, uh, Marcus?"

"Malcolm? Over," I admitted, with much more firmness than I felt an hour ago. "On fairly unfriendly terms."

Although he apologized, a grin split across his face like a kid on Christmas morning. Amused, I indulged a little in some friendly flirting. This may have been a day of epic failure for all men, but I could certainly make an exception for Logan; he was too much like a boy to get lumped in with the male populace. Plus I was beginning to enjoy myself.

I coyly smiled back, stepped forward a little and said, "Blondes are hell on us, huh?" I was not prepared for what I had initiated. It's like I had unleashed a tiger cub on the pretense that he'd act like a sweet little kitten and then got mauled.

Dark brown hair hung in his eyes, disheveled but attractively so, as he smiled easily. It was a smile that was slow, crooked, and still had a trace of insecurity. His face still had the same friendly, childish look, but as he nodded he caught my eyes I was held in a dark green gaze that had a startling amount of intensity for a guy so endearing. "Maybe we should just stick to brunettes," he said, his voice claiming the slightest trace of huskiness, and winked.

Holy shit. I blinked, taken aback completely by the rush of heat that flooded me with that simple, cute as hell wink. Holy shit! Unsure of what my expression looked like, I held his gaze until the elevator doors opened suddenly and we were suddenly thrown into chaos and pandemonium.

Kori, looking great with her new haircut, was currently involved in a very loud screaming match with Dick. Dick, who looked more miserable than I had ever seen him, was inches away from her face, looking torn between killing her and dropping to his knees, begging her to take him back.

Outside of this, bystanders with files and coffee mugs watched in dismay and concern. A large man, who seemed to be going for the Captain America look, was trying to interrupt the pair and gain control of the office. I immediately labeled him as Valor and upon recalling every smug, sexist comment Kori repeated to me, I vowed to someday make his life a living hell.

Not yet, my pretty. I mentally hissed, eying the idiotic, chauvinistic jackass with a degree of anticipation and evilness. But I promise you, you will suffer.

A flash of red caught my eye, and I watched Wally physically try and separate the pair, dragging Dick away as he shouted obscenities at Kori.

Kori, meanwhile, was quite beside herself and shrieking very angry sounding French at him. By the tone of it, it was clear that she wasn't wishing him good health.

"Er…" Logan looked positively startled, and though he worked here and definitely had more experience, he turned to me for assistance. I smiled at him reassuringly, always calm in the middle of a crisis. "Okay, you handle Dick, and I'll grab Kori."

The tall cutie smiled back, steadied from my calm orders. Before he left, he reached over as quick as anything and grabbed my hand with his. His warm, dry palm held my cold hand, his fingers lacing through mine, and he squeezed it with a decent amount of force. Before I could react, he dropped my hand and rushed over to help Wally.

I was left there, shaken more from his touch than the chaotic scene before me. What. The hell. Was that?

My hand tingled from his grasp, and I stared wordlessly at Logan, as he joined Wally, much to the red head's relief, and grabbed Dick's left arm. Wally snatched the enraged man's right arm, and together, he and Logan literally dragged Dick away from the office.

Meanwhile, I stayed still like some love-struck school girl. Irritated, I made myself move and marched right over to a hysterical Kori. "Corriana Antoinette Anderson," I snapped sharply, grabbing her shoulders firmly.

She glanced down at me, and stopped her rampant French.

"Grab your supplies," I told her in a slow, loud voice, watching as she obeyed and turned back to me for further direction. With her cheeks flushed and shoulders shaking from fury, I could see she didn't trust herself enough to do anything but listen to me.

"We're going to go to lunch now," I told her, as I led her away from the office. Other employees stared at her with vivid curiosity until I snapped, "Would you piss off, she's not some side show!"

Big, booming steps thundered behind me, and I heard a deep man's voice, "Excuse me! She's not leaving! She caused a public disturbance, I must insist-,"

I turned to Captain America, an evil glint in my eye. "You can shut the hell up, you psychotic ape and thank the fates I'm not inflicting pain on you right now."

He blinked and I watched him puff up with indignation like a flustered chicken. "I beg your pardon?"

I stabbed the elevator button with more ferocity than necessary. "I know my way around a skillet. Let's leave it at that."

With great satisfaction, I watched the doors close on his repulsed, livid, and frightened face.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part X: Law School Never Covered This…

(Wally)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Dude! Get a hold of yourself!"

I had never been so grateful to see Logan Garfields in all of my life. Struggling to contain Dick from reacting to Kori (though I doubted he would ever actually hurt her) I looked to the gangly attorney with hope in my eyes.

"Grab his left arm, kid!" He didn't even bristle at the nickname, but instead assessed the situation and took firm hold of Dick's left arm with a surprising amount of strength. From that point forward, I decided to never refer to him as kid, ever again.

Dick, on the other hand, fully deserved the title. Shouting incoherent strings of insults at Kori, he pulled against both me and Logan, as we dragged him back towards his office.

Kori wasn't help much either, taunting French at him like she was getting paid for it. Why wouldn't someone grab her and slap some sense into her? I glanced around and saw many employees simply enthralled with the scene, and Valor who was vibrating with anger. Finally my eyes landed on Rachel, who was not watching Kori, seemed immune to the commotion surrounding her.

Before I could think this through, Dick nearly slipped through my grasp, and I doubled my efforts to get him into the office. Finally, a couple abuse-ridden minutes later, we succeeded.

My nose was bleeding again, Logan was missing five buttons on his shirt, and Dick looked like a wild man with his shirt un-tucked, his tie askew, and his normally spiky hair tousled.

But what altered him most, was his expression. Instead of his normal cool composed blank stare, his eyes were wide with fury. In addition to a permanent angry flush to his face, his mouth was twisted into an unnamed shape, a hybrid of a snarl and a sneer. Every so often, I swear I saw an eye twitch.

Any second now I expected him to begin frothing at the mouth.

"So… about your 'she means nothing to me' plan…" I started, holding a Kleenex to my nose. "How's that working out for you?"

Logan snickered, and than covered it when Dick spun on his heel and turned towards me. I fully braced myself for a second punch to the face.

"You," He hissed, with a crazed, malicious glint in his eye. Oh shit. This is where life ends.

"Are going blonde."

"…" I stared at him, dumbfounded.

…Cricket chirp…

Nope, he'd definitely said what I thought he'd said.

"…Right!" I said briskly, turning to Logan. "I'm making my escape. I suddenly need a haircut. Think you can handle him?"

Green eyes widened in desperation. "What? Dude! No!"

"Marvelous! Have fun!" I said cheerfully, starting towards the door.

On my way out, I looked over to see Logan staring at me helplessly as he called, "Wait, Wally!"

Dick seemed to scoot towards the tall boy, the crazed gleam in his eye focusing on Logan. In a suggestive voice similar to an offering of drugs, he asked "Ever thought about colored contacts, kid?"

Logan blanched. "Don't leave me with him!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hee!

-Rose


	4. Chapter 4

**Letters to Logic**

**By Rose**

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

**My friends. I just want to say... that there's nothing quite like waking up to the sound of your roommate's boyfriend saying, "(Roommate's name), do you think we should tell your roommate that her top is, like, completely down? Because I'm all for keeping it a secret. Oh and I'm always sleeping here."**

**Not okay.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Part XI: The Boy Who Wouldn't Go Away**

**(Jenny)**

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

We were running out of time.

"S_ey_mour," I griped, my voice thin with anxiety.

"I _know_," He snapped immediately, his own voice strained with dread.

As time passed the tension increased in sync with stress levels, and there was no rewind back to comfortable normalcy. Oh no. We were passed the point of no return.

...Sorry. I'd watched _Phantom of the Opera_ last night and all the melodrama hadn't washed off yet.

But back to the tension. I felt it physically weighing me down like an overloaded backpack. Of course, that didn't compare to the pressure on Seymour's shoulders. The guy practically shook with anxiety. I knew this panic was worse for Seymour, _ten_ times worse, but for the life of me I couldn't keep myself silent or still.

I fidgeted impatiently, battling with the obligation to be an understanding friend or to just demand that he "hurry the fuck _up_", but the stakes were high. This was a delicate procedure, to be handled with brilliant tactics and care. We were betting on a lot here, and if this didn't work out…

I shuddered to think.

"_C'mon_!" I urged.

"Quit rushing me, woman!" He snapped back, pressing his lips together in concentration. We were standing beside the sinks as he stared towards his object of attention and wiped the same counter for the hundredth time. I pretended to refill the already full shampoo bottles and fulfilled my duty as friend and annoyance-with-good-intentions.

To my credit, I managed to stay silent for five whole seconds, plenty of time for him to prepare and initiate action. When he kept his lips pressed together and his feet still, I sighed deeply. At his lack of response, I tried to be supportive and courteous by waiting another few seconds.

Still no movement. I couldn't contain myself and let out another deep sigh. He glanced at me, his look sharp with irritation.

_Well, then do something about it. _I grumbled this inwardly, and feeling proud that I managed to keep silent, I gave myself permission to silently act out my frustration. I rolled my eyes and stamped my foot, jerking my head toward the person we stalked. He scowled, narrowing his eyes in a silent "shut the hell up or die."

What was he accomplishing besides dismal failure? _She's leaving soon you great lug! Act now!_

I hummed a high, panicking tune and bounced on my heels, trying to remind him of the limited time. Trying his best to mimic a pissed off grizzly bear, he growled at me, his voice dropping a few octaves.

_I'm only trying to help. You are obviously hopeless at this._ Going for a pouting puppy, I whined, pointing at his mission. He made a choking gesture at me.

_Fine_! I threw my hands in the air in frustration and exhaled loudly. _You try to help some people!_ Looming over me he slid a threatening finger across his throat. On my tip toes I pointed a finger in his face, noiselessly promising dire consequences if—

"Guys, I think I'm going to head out!" Audrey called cheerfully; walking passed our bizarre and frozen ritual like it was a normal occurrence.

…Which, to be honest, it was. It wasn't uncommon for Seymour and I to have silent, hostile conversations consisting of squeaks and growls and awkward hand gestures. It was part of our friendship.

With a feeling of exasperation I watched her walk away, realizing that it had finally reached five o'clock and her shift was officially over, as was Seymour's important mission. Audrey wouldn't be with us for another two days, and that was way too long for me to handle, listening to Seymour bemoan about his unrequited love for her.

I noted Seymour's forlorn, love-struck stare with strong feelings of disgust and pity.

There were only a few clients in the salon, one balding, middle aged man getting a manicure, and two elderly ladies getting their hair colored. All were regulars, and weren't particularly high maintenance, so there was no real reason to ask Audrey to stay; Tara, Red, and the part-time hair stylist Lydia Wicked were more than capable of taking care of the clients.

It had been a long, frustrating day for Seymour. I had watched him try to talk to Audrey numerous times: at the water fountain, in the break room, at the counter, by the sink. Even one disastrous moment when they reached for the same pair of scissors, and I overheard him say something nonsensical, like "We belong together."

Cue my snort, and Audrey's startled look, shortly followed with his sad attempt to recover: "I mean, you, uh, you belong together. Like, you and the _scissors_, you know?" Cue me doubling over with laughter, his murderous glare in my direction, and then his awkwardly endearing end: "…You can have me-er, _them_! The _scissors_! _What_?" He cocked his head suddenly, as though straining to hear a distant voice. "Yeah, coming! Gotta go!"

And then I watched him dash away towards the break room, while Audrey just stared at him in lovely, wide-eyed bewilderment. He had been moping ever since.

Truly pathetic. Not to mention the suffering I would endure if I had to go through the irritating mixture of pity, ridicule, and contempt for another few days. I might off myself.

Well, no. But I'd definitely run out of creative, mocking, yet understanding insults. And I'm too proud of my wit to watch that happen.

Something had to be done.

I stared, dead pan, into Seymour's distressed face, trying to communicate: _You're letting her get away, you dumbass._

My poor, inept friend ignored this piece of advice, choosing instead to watch her walk away. The look on his stupid face was so pathetically despondent that I began to call, "Wai-mmph!"

With reflexes similar to a ninja, he covered my mouth with one, huge hand, muffling my voice in a makeshift muzzle. Infuriated, I looked up, saw his eye actually twitch in warning, and wisely stayed silent.

Audrey watched us, appropriately perplexed by this alteration and waved uneasily. "Um… 'kay. Bye Jenny. …Seymour," She nodded at him with a shy smile, and he used his other hand to awkwardly wave back.

_For the love of God. Are we in elementary school?_

Shoving his hand away, I blurted, "_Seymour_ has something he wants to say to you!"

_…Yes. Yes we are._

"_God damnit Jenny!_" Seymour scowled, his face reddening with humiliation. Turning to Audrey, he said in a solemn voice, "She's delusional, you know she is. She's just having an episode."

I rolled my eyes in irritation, and stared at Audrey with as much sanity as I could muster. "That's false, and you know it. He's just shy."

"No I'm not!"

"So I'll say it for him," I generously offered. I went for an honest tone, but ended up with blunt one as I explained, "He wants to sex you up."

I am a fucking rock star.

For the first time I in all the long years I had ever known him Seymour was utterly speechless, his mouth hanging open in shock.

_Was this a good idea?_

Only then did I ponder the wisdom of my actions, and quickly turned to glare threateningly at Audrey. If she rejected him… _I rescind my brownie!_

My glare faltered though, when I saw her. She was bright red, understandably so, but was smiling so hugely that it looked painful. "Seymour?"

Rigidly, he turned to her, looking more vulnerable than I had ever seen my cutting edge hair stylist friend look. "Well…" The word alone was affirmation enough, and Audrey took a deep, satisfied breath.

"Unfortunately, you're still working your shift, and I'm against public sex, so… what about after?"

For the second time that night, Seymour's mouth dropped open in shock, before it was replacing with a splitting grin. "Y-Yeah! I mean," He tried to lose some of the overwhelming enthusiasm in his voice, "That-that'd be cool."

I snorted beside him, side stepping his sharp, prodding elbow. Audrey snatched one of our business cards from the counter and scribbled something on the back. "Here, call me as soon as you get off. Do you like sushi?"

Seymour nodded, looking at her like she was a gift from God. She smiled and slipped the card into his hand. "Excellent. Call me," She rose on her very tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before darting away and out the door.

The happiest man on the planet, Seymour, rocked back on his heels and exhaled happily.

Not one to have any sort of self-restraint, I tip-toed over towards the thrilled, dark skinned man. "Who do you love?" I asked, smiling smugly.

Seymour didn't even grimace. Serenely he turned to me and stated, "You're fucking up my afterglow."

Bells rang happily as a customer walked in. "Too damn bad, twatsitarian. You have a client!" I told him in a sing-song voice, turning away as I marched over to the break room. Once inside I did a happy jig as I straightened up the pillows on the patchwork couch and the magazines on the coffee table. As I congratulated myself on a job excellently done, I vaguely noticed someone spilled a drink on the tile floor and the sticky residue still remained. I made a mental note to get Gizmo to mop the floor.

_Gah but that's tomorrow. And the flies! Not to mention the state of the bathrooms..._

I eyed the bathroom door cautiously, daring myself to enter and find out for myself. I knew were the cleaning supplies were; and it wasn't like I couldn't do, or at least start, the chores myself.

Making a face, I trudged over towards the closet, reminding myself that this was the future I wanted. To my confusion, I ran into Seymour on my way there and wondered why he wasn't with the new customer. "Oh, was it Audrey again? Second kiss?" I teased, smiling slyly at his amused face.

"Er, no. Actually there's a request for you,"

I raised a mocking eyebrow. "They prefer my talents to yours? You're taking this well."

Seymour snickered. "I don't think he wants you for your… ah, talent…"

Knowing when I was being ridiculed, even if it was a weak insult to begin with, I moved so I could identify the customer. I groaned in recognition, as I saw the looming figure standing before the counter. With his wild, medieval-court-Jester-like hair, Wally West returned to my life as he studied the large, framed posters on the wall, smiling with contentment.

"You must be kidding," I muttered in disbelief, listening to Seymour chuckled behind me.

"Why didn't you tell me your Bill Weasley was Wally West?"

"He is not _mine_!" I hissed in annoyance, running a hand through my pink and blonde hair in frustration. "Wait, you know him?"

"Yeah, he's a lawyer. He represented a friend of mine who got in some trouble a while ago. He's really good at his job, without being the stereotypically sleazy lawyer, you know?"

This was interesting news. Wally West was a lawyer. A nice lawyer. With an impulsive street car racing side. I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "That's interesting. Not. What does he want?"

"You," Seymour stated bluntly and I glared at him.

"Well, we're fresh out of that."

"After he paid your eight hundred dollar ticket? Jesus, woman, _I'd_ be his."

"He can have you," I grumbled, taking a deep breath. Shoulders squared, I walked over to face my personal stalker.

Once hearing my shoes click across the tile floor, he turned his smile to me, and I was again blown away by his grown up attire but youthful face. "Hey," He greeted easily.

Before I responded, I did a quick survey of his appearance. I eyed his attire, charcoal slacks and a crisp, pristine white shirt, with a large degree of jealousy. He looked fantastic and unbelievably unreachable, which was momentarily disconcerting because he seemed thrilled to see my grumpy self.

Trying to look like I wasn't the least bit surprised by his visit, I asked dryly, "So what can I do for you sir?"

He leaned forward on his elbows against the counter and I noticed for the first time that he had great forearms pressing against his rolled up white sleeves. Thick locks of red hair fell into his startling, aquamarine eyes, and I blinked at the bright color. "Well, ma'am," He began politely, "I could really use a hair cut, and someone whose opinion I greatly esteem raved about your hair cutting abilities."

I raised an eyebrow going through lists of regular clients in my head, wondering who the source could be. "You're joking. Well, they didn't lie; I am quite good at cutting hair." Trying to be professional, I tore my gaze from his vivid blue eyes and studied his mass of red hair. He really did have a lot of it.

"What are you thinking then?" I asked, contemplating different styles. "I can trim the sides. I can add layers, if you really want them… Maybe give you some heavy bangs? Naah," I discarded that suggestion with a brisk shake of the head. "Okay, what about a total change? Crew cut? Caesar?" Without thinking I reached over and ran my fingers through his surprisingly soft hair. Wrapping the thick red around my fingers, I pushed it back away from his face. With his hair pulled back, I studied him to see how it would look.

He stared at me, as though in a trance from my forward gesture. With a smirk, I pulled my hands back and shook my head. "I prefer your shaggy look. Come with me."

Without being told twice, he obeyed as I led him through the salon, by the sinks. "Sit back, and I'll be with you in a moment," Wally smiled and nodded, sitting easily in the black leather chair. The chair, large in size, usually overwhelmed those who sat in it, but it fit his tall frame perfectly. I was a little irritated by this. If I were to sit in it I'd look like a little girl.

I made my way towards a nearby cabinet, searching for an adult-sized large smock. All of a sudden, I encased in a towering shadow and I turned to see Seymour leaning against the cabinet next to mine. "Getting a little hands-y, weren't we?"

I glared at him. "I do that with every client."

"This does not subtract to the weirdness, it only adds."

Rolling my eyes with great superiority, I retorted, "It's so I can get a feel for their hair."

Seymour scrutinized me with apparent disbelief.

"Shut up," I added intelligently.

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, he drawled, "Right. I'll leave you to go fondle Bill."

"Go clean the bathrooms," I snapped, slamming the cabinet shut as I snatched a smock.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

"You're fired!" With this threat made, I returned to Wally with an annoyed look on my face. He eyed me curiously as slipped on the smock I gave him. "Are you and Seymour together?" He asked, genuinely curious.

I laughed one loud, harsh cackle that made several people turn to look. "He should be so lucky," I snickered, quieter.

It did not escape my attention that Wally grinned at my response, his shoulders relaxing a little in relief.

I smoothly changed the subject. "Okay, you. We have a variety of options here. I think your face is better suited for a longer length… unless you _want_ a buzz. You certainly wouldn't be the first red head to ask for a drastic haircut today."

Wally smiled, "That would be my reliable source."

He knew Kori? I smiled at the memory of the sweet red head. "Oh, you know Kori? How did she look?"

"Oh, well," He paused then, a surprised look on his face. "You know, I didn't really have time to decide. I was more surprised than anything else when I saw her, and then when Dick finally reacted, I was too busy trying to prevent homicide to really consider her new look."

I stopped in my action to tie the smock behind his neck, shocked by this lightly spoken information. "Wait, _what_?"

Wally smiled, nodding firmly, "You know what- I _do_ like it. It suits her. And she was always complaining about her hair, I think she only kept it that length because Dick likes it so much."

Stunned, I waved my hands to stop him from speaking further. "Pause. Let's review. Dickhead tried to _kill_ her?" I repeated, suddenly very concerned about my new friend. She was a sweetheart too, who had showered me with compliments and engaged in a forty-five minute discussion. We had covered almost everything, from the reasoning behind her dramatic change, her finished relationship with Dick (the Wonder Prick), fashion styles, college classes, kittens, and old movies. In fact, we had plans to go see A_ll About Eve _at an old cinema downtown this weekend. "She's okay, right?" I asked, wondering if I should call her just to double check.

Wally's lips twitched. "Dickhead. Oh how I like that. Yes, she's fine, she's a tough old girl that Kori."

I nodded, leaning against the countertop. "I'll say. Takes a lot of nerve to end such a long relationship… not to mention cut all her hair off."

Wally cocked his head suddenly, surveying me. "Have you two been friends long?"

I shook my head no, tucking a pink tipped strand of hair back into my twist. "No, I just met her today. But it was one of those instant connections, you know? We just talked for the longest time. I think she just really needed someone to listen to her." Wally thought about this, looking a little troubled.

"She could have talked to me. I know she sounded a little off yesterday, but I just assumed she'd get over it. I didn't want to get involved with their relationship, but I should have probably said something…" His concern was genuine and I thought of him a little better for it.

"Don't sweat it. Even if you had asked she might not have said anything anyway. It's a little weird but salons can be something like a confessional," I described, smiling wryly as I pushed his chair back and tipped in back towards the sink.

"How so?" He looked perfectly at ease despite the awkward position, not to mention the uncomfortable sink cushioning his neck.

"Well," I turned on the water, adjusting the nozzle for a soothing pressure and waited until the temperature rose to warm. "People come in with troubles and find themselves with a little under an hour with a perfect stranger who is absolutely focused on them, even if it's just their hair. You can just guess what happens." I began to soak his head, running my fingers through the thick mass as I did. "That's how we get our regulars though. People realize that our judgments ultimately don't matter because we don't interact with them outside of the salon. They can tell us things they normally couldn't tell other people. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've heard."

I turned off the water and quickly grabbed a nearby Aveda shampoo bottle. Squirting a little into my hands, I proceeded to work the soap into his hair, massaging his roots and scalp, smiling as he groaned and relaxed.

"God that feels amazing," he murmured happily with gently closed eyes. My lips curved in a knowing smirk. I would be lying if I said I'd never heard this before; only Seymour bested me in my talent for giving amazingly relaxing shampoos.

"Thanks," I answered anyway, feeling pleased with the compliment. Hoping to score a few more, I asked, "So… you do like her haircut?"

Wally smiled. "Yeah, I really do. The more I think about it the more it appeals to me. It's weird because I've never really liked short hair on girls."

I began to rinse away the shampoo. "Why's that?"

He shrugged lightly, opening his eyes again. Aquamarine pupils dazzled me, briefly, before I caught sight of the nearby conditioner bottle. His hair was so long that I decided it needed just a little, and listened to his explanation as I squeezed a little more than a drop into my hands.

"Maybe I'm just an old-fashioned guy but I really like long hair. When girls take it out of a pony-tail, or pull it up off their neck, or just fiddle with it."

I pondered this as I worked the conditioner into my hands and then ran it carefully through his scalp. Though I was expecting it, I still felt a rush of satisfaction when he groaned at the touch of my hands. "It's such a hassle to take care of though," I added, feeling like playing Devil's Advocate.

"Maybe," he acknowledged momentarily. "But you can do so much with it. Braiding or flat-ironing or curling or whatever. Lot's of creativity available."

I blinked. "Wow. You know a lot about hair."

"Four sisters."

"Damn." I turned the water back on and soaked his thoroughly washed hair. "So long hair is best?" I deduced, toweling his dripping hair dry. Wally grinned and sat up, relaxing as I leveled his chair back to normal. "While I do like Kori's haircut… possible even more than her long hair, I do like long hair in general. Long blonde hair."

I raised my eyebrows at this. "Really." It wasn't a question but he answered anyway.

"Yeah. With pink tips." His eyes twinkled, actually twinkled. Damn florescent lights. Sure, just wash out my complexion but go ahead and make him look fabulous. Ingrates.

I rolled my eyes casually and snorted, "Wow. You really are old fashioned."

He grinned in response, turning a thousand times more attractive and making me a thousand times more agitated. I took out my scissors with more aggression than necessary, but to his credit he didn't even flinch.

Thirty minutes later, I dusted red hair off the black smock and eyed my work. It was a work of art, and I hated myself for it.

Honestly. I could have given him some sort of emo haircut or a buzz cut and he probably wouldn't have noticed in the slightly. But no, I had to think like a stylist and make his hair look phenomenal. And it really did, if I do say so myself. It was no longer as long as before and just as messy, but I was careful to add the tiniest trace of layers which made his disheveled, messy hairstyle look flawless. I took a step back and smiled confidently.

And then he stood, removing his smock and folding up. Standing taller than I remembered, he offered it to me with a crooked smile, with his new haircut, with that goddamn flattering outfit, and with that pure, unadulterated… sex appeal.

My smile disappeared, replaced by my horrified attraction. Talk about an aphrodisiac… in a haircut. _What the hell have I done?_

"Thank you very much," He said politely to my paralyzed form.

I snapped out of it, snatching the smock away and trying very hard not to blush. "Welcome! Pay at the counter!" I dashed away, taking my time as I folded, unfolded, re-folded, and put away that blasted smock. And then studied it for a good couple of minutes before putting it in the cupboard.

"What the hell are you doing?" I jumped at the sound of Seymour's jovial voice close to my ear.

"Nothing!" I squeaked, leaping away from him. "Go away! You're fired!"

Undeterred, he stared straight at me with those irritatingly sensible dark eyes of his. "He's not going anywhere. In case you've forgotten, you're running the counter."

I blinked. "Oh. Right."

"Moron."

I scowled, elbowing him out of the way as I headed for the staffroom. "You take care of it. I need to do finish something anyway." I yelped then as he grabbed the crook of my elbow and swung me back to face him.

"Wrong. Go face him yourself. What's wrong with you? Normally if you don't like a guy you tell him off with more beauty and style than that haircut you just gave. And when you like a guy, you practically devour him. What's so different about this one?"

I glanced over towards the subject of our conversation, against my better judgment. Happy as a hippie, he leaned against the counter, tapping his thumbs idly.

"…He's been there the whole time?" I asked in disbelief.

"Wearing that same expression too." Seymour's voice mimicked my amazed tone, but he sounded pretty amused. "C'mon. Tell me. Why are you avoiding him? He's not your normal type but I really like him more than the losers you normally date."

I could have slapped him for that, but I didn't really feel like it. I sighed, unwilling to confess my lame insecurities to Seymour. Another prod from my co-worker got me moving and with a coil in my stomach I walked towards the counter.

Wally beamed as he saw me approach. "So, how much do I owe you?"

Keeping silent, I quickly added up the shampoo and cut. "Twenty-five even," I answered quickly, watching him watch me as I practically vibrated with uneasiness.

Deftly, he slipped out his wallet and passed me his platinum credit card. I stared at it for a few seconds before I picked it up, trying to conceal the indignant rampage going on in my head.

_Oh. Platinum. Of course. Argh, God damnit stop staring at me like that you rich, elitist, sophisticated… man-boy_!

I gave him his credit card back, smiling as politely as I could. _Do not be hostile. He's done nothing wrong. It's not his fault he's tall and successful and you're short and a big pile of financial failure._

"Have a nice night!" I said as brightly as I could, ready to turn and escape into the break room.

"_Please_ go out with me," He responded, his eyes suddenly wide and imploring.

My smile fell as I gaped in shock, watching him blink rapidly, looking absolutely appalled at himself. Unsure of what to do I pretended like I hadn't heard his outburst and asked, "Um… what?"

Looking like he was yelling at himself internally, he shook himself and straightened. "I mean… er, do you happen to have the time?"

I eyed him in scrutiny, glanced at the watch on his wrist, and then slowly turned to the clock on the wall. "Eight twenty," I offered, more than a little baffled. "…Is that all?"

"Yeah. No." He closed his eyes, clearly struggling verbally. "Ahh, okay! Would you be interested in having dinner with me sometime?"

I suddenly realized that the salon was dead silent and cringed. "Um… let's talk about this outside?" Refusing to look behind me, I grabbed his arm and marched towards the door, gritting my teeth in annoyance when Tara and Seymour both groaned in disappointment. Once outside in the cool evening air and the darkening sky, I turned to the anxious red head. It was endearing how nervous he was, but also unsettling. I couldn't understand his attraction to me. It was like his presence brought out every single one of my worst qualities and yet he was still interested. It didn't add up. Not to mention we weren't compatible at all… physically, financially, and definitely in terms of personality. He'd end up hurt and I'd be frustrated and we'd have accomplished nothing except wasted time.

Feeling a bit depressed by my quick assessment I took a deep breath. "Look," I began but was cut off instantly.

"Wait, before you say no!" He waved his hands desperately to stop me and began, "I am a really great guy! I swear! I'm occasionally funny in a self-deprecating sort of way… as you can see now in my pathetic desperation to ask you out…" I pressed my lips together but a smile escaped and he grinned in response. "Four sisters made me a very sensitive guy but eight years of lacrosse made me a very masculine guy too, so I'm pretty steady on that particular seesaw. I have a great relationship with my mom. I eat at all the best restaurants but I can also fend for myself. I make superb pasta. Seriously, I'm quite a catch!"

I shook my head, half in disbelief, and half in absolute certainty that he really was all of these things.

"Oh, and humble. I'm that too," he added, ducking his head a little in embarrassment and I laughed despite myself. "So… convinced enough to go out with me?"

Why did he have to make this so hard? I was trying to do him a favor here. "Wally. Here's the thing. I have no doubt you are all of these things, but that's my point exactly. Why would you want to go out with a girl like me when you can have… probably anyone?"

Wally blinked, taken aback. "Oh… wait, this is about you? You don't want to go out with me because of _you_?" Those aquamarine eyes bored into mine, leaden with relief and incredulity.

I looked away, irritated by my sudden self-consciousness. "I've been nothing but bitchy and moody around you. Which, if that's the sort of thing you like, isn't my normal personality… well, usually. I… I just don't understand why you'd want to go out with me," I said, trying to conceal a tone of self-pity.

"Because you're kind of crazy and I love it. You're funny. You're _fun_. You're _interesting_. I want to get to know you. I don't know beyond that, but ever since I saw you I just had this impulsive, unreasonable… _need_ to be around you and spend time with you. That's all I'm asking. Please. Humor me."

It wasn't the most romantic thing a guy had said to a girl, but it reduced me to speechlessness. With that desperately worded plea he completely obliterated my offensive line and all my reasons for why I should say no.

He sensed my indignation and smiled crookedly, beautifully. "Please?"

I could not make myself say no. I couldn't even force myself to seem reluctant. Smiling ridiculously wide I said yes, laughing with complete understanding when he burst into a victory dance.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XII: Let's Make Like Fabric Softener and Snuggle!

(Logan)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Time check: Eight thirty.

Normally I'd be on my third game of Super Smash Bros with a couple friends, but tonight I took a rain check from that social gathering. Instead I decided to set myself up for emotional disaster.

Ask me how it happened.

I don't even know. Impulsive, self-torturing habits decided to make an appearance and I'm stuck watching the wreckage unfold.

Time check: Eight thirty-two.

I looked around the interior of Poet's Place and, yet again, was disappointed. Not by the design, of course- Poet's Place was one of the coolest places to eat with its rustic, almost medieval tables and booths. The weird modern twist was in the lighting and the music, is that what they call atmosphere? There's a reason I didn't take an designing courses in college.

No, even to a creatively challenged individual like myself, Poet's Place was kind of sick in a trendy way.

Its only flaw was that I couldn't find its owner, Rachel.

I swallowed my discouragement and tried to think reasonably. _You knew it wasn't a guarantee that she'd be here. She has a life too._

You know, I've always found reason to be a drag. Still, I couldn't help but agree—which is the trouble with logic, it's always right! –Rachel was probably out having her own fun.

I couldn't say I was having much of that. After thirty minutes of changing and re-changing my outfit and prepping myself for a conversation in which I would portray myself as smart and attractive, not to mention thirty-five minutes of waiting to be seated, I had felt a ridiculous amount of triumph as I sat down at my table. I had made it! Success!

And then bewilderment.

Shit…Now what?

"Can I get you anything?" My waitress Antonia asked sympathetically as she eyed the empty seat in front of me.

I tried to act carefree, like I wanted to be sitting alone in the middle of a busy, popular restaurant. Considering that this _was_ my plan it shouldn't have been a hard thing to do, but nevertheless I definitely sounded like a self-conscious pansy when I answered, "Just a glass of Chardonnay. Please."

Antonia nodded and bopped away to get my drink. Leaning back in my chair I glanced around the crowded room and asked myself what the hell I had gotten myself into.

Seriously, what was I doing here? About an hour and a half or so ago, I had decided to act on this crazy impulse when I had opened my barren refrigerator. Somewhere between the carton of milk and the decomposing take-out I thought about Rachel. Before I knew it I was changing my outfit like a man on a mission.

It's not like I had expected her to see me, drop everything to join me, confess her harboring feelings for me and engage in a passionate make out session right here on the table in front of everyone…

...Well, it _was_ a nice daydream to entertain myself with anyway.

The plan was flawed, obviously, and this is what happens when you don't sit down and think through things. How many people had I represented who had acted strictly on impulse? Way too many to be copying their tactics.

I hadn't even seen a glimpse of Rachel once but that was understandable. I mean, she was running her own restaurant for God's sake. Of course she wouldn't have time to see me, especially since we didn't even have a date in the first place.

I sighed and spotted the dutiful Antonia making her way over to sympathetically ask if I was sure I didn't want to order anything. About twelve minutes ago I had desperately fumbled some lie that I was waiting for my date to show up, to see if it would erase some of her pity. Instead it had increased tenfold as she realized I was being blown off.

_Genius, Logan. How did you make it through law school again?_

Despite her horribly embarrassing compassion, fabricating a running-late date had made this easier to deal with. Because really. What kind of pathetic loser goes out to eat alone anyway? Eh… don't answer that.

"Hey there Logan. Sure you don't want an appetizer or anything?"

I smiled at Antonia bracingly. _See? I'm a big tough guy who can take care of myself. A real manly man. Who's insecure? Certainly not me! Bragh! …Wow._

She was really a nice girl for taking care of me like this. "Thanks Antonia but no, it's fine. I'll wait a little longer," I said as indifferently as I could.

Her neon purple contacts felt like lasers as they widened in sympathy. Why not just give me a sign to wear that says 'take-me-home-and-feed-me'?

"You take as long as you like. Just wave me over if you need anything," she reassured. I felt like a world class goober. What was I still doing here? Rachel was no where to be seen- not that it mattered, she was probably to busy to sit with me anyway-and I was just making up a date in a weak attempt to convince myself that I wasn't as pathetic as I-

"Logan?"

Just like that- my figurative storm cloud got its ass kicked by a sudden ray of sunshine. Make that sunshine _and_ rainbows.

Seriously now, it is really _ridiculous_ how my mood did a complete 180 as I looked up from the dark wooden table and stared. No, I had not imagined it she really was standing there. God's pants, she never failed to blow my mind. I don't know anything about clothes but there was something amazing about the short white dress she wore. Something about how it looked against her white skin, so pretty against the dark coloring of the restaurant. Like a lit white candle in the middle of this dark room. I know, I know, I sound like a complete tool. But you know what? I don't even care.

"Rachel! Hey!" Hallelujah.

She smiled at me warmly and her beautiful eyes flickered towards the empty chair in front of me. Did her smile falter? Or did I just imagine that? "Oh, are you here with someone?" she asked.

"No, I-…" I broke off and quickly reorganized my thoughts.

_Crap! What do I do? Court room mode! Assess the situation_!

Let's face it. If I were to tell her the truth—_No I was waiting for you like the stalking maniac I am—_she would probably throw me out of the restaurant and never speak to me again. Unless I said it without making myself sound creepy… _Unlikely_.

No, impossible, that idea was out. What then? I remembered the pity in Antonia's eyes and grabbed at that in desperation. "I actually was waiting for someone but she has yet to show up."

_Smooth, idiot. Very smooth._

I looked down to hide my ashamed expression. I've never had a close bond with my conscience so lying had never really been an issue with me. Which was nice at odd moments in my life, not to mention in my career. _No mom I have no idea what happened to the dog. Hasn't he always been blue?_

Or _No Tara I'm not mad at you. I guess everyone crashes their boyfriend's car into a Synagogue at some point._

Or W_ell someone looks mega foxy today, Mr. Valor!_

Lies came easily to me, along with a poker face that any lawyer would be proud of. But for some reason I couldn't shake the guilt I suddenly felt. It took me a while to place it but one flashback to Antonia's sad expression filled me with self-disgust. Rachel didn't deserve this kind of manipulative crap. Why couldn't I do this right?

I mean really now. What kind of a sad excuse of a man was I anyway? Dick would never have this problem. He'd look her directly in the eyes and say in a low, sultry, effing-James Bond voice "Actually, beautiful, I was just waiting for you to make my night perfect. Will you join me?" Insert sexy smirk here.

Wally would have unashamedly announced something like: "She emerges! The stalker is yet again rewarded for his persistence!" And then he'd grin that goddamn adorable grin of his and even I'd probably let him into my pants. JK, lawlz.

Even freaking Valor would trump me. He'd give her that cold, no-nonsense look of his and demand, "Well? I'm here you insignificant female. You're welcome."

Ugh. Why was I so inept at flirting? _This shouldn't be so hard! …Ahh resist urge to make a that's-what-she-said joke. Time and place, Logan. Time and place._

Only a minute had passed since she said my name and I already wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Thanks to my pitiful inexperience and overall incompetence I had to resort to making up a date to get her attention.

Not only that, but I was manipulating her to receive her pity and lure her in to having dinner with me like some twisted psycho. This is the stuff that bad lifetime murder movies are made of. Awesome sauce.

I looked up at her to see her expression and was startled to see her lovely mouth open in wordless anger and her eyes narrowed in obvious fury. _Shit she knows I'm lying! She'll never speak to me again! Apologize now!_

"Wait. Someone stood you up?" She hissed quietly and I stopped myself mid mental rant.

"Um…" _What? Shit. What do I say_? "Well…"

_Tell her the truth? Risk her disgust and hatred?_

"Ye-,"

_No Logan. Lying is wrong, and you like this girl. Too much to fuck it up already._

"I mean…"

_Exactly you useless tool, which is why you lie so she pities you which is better than nothing!_

"…"

_Dude, to lie or not to lie? That's the question. Wait…Did Shakespeare ever even give an answer? Goddamn you Bill! Made out of suck and fail!_

"Yeah I guess so," I finished in a rather dismal tone.

Beautiful in her anger she closed her eyes and shook her head. "I cannot believe that. What is wrong with-… that is just so… ugh!" Gone was he calm anger and she broke off in an aggravation huff and sat down across from me. She looked furious enough to hurt someone and, weirdly enough, really gorgeous. "It's okay really, it's just embarrassing. I wish she'd called," I threw in, hopelessly listening to myself as I stated lie after lie.

"It's not okay," she growled through clenched teeth. I almost fainted it was so unnervingly sexy. _Do not say anything. Don't even open your mouth. God only knows what you'd say. Something like 'take me now' or 'I want on you'._

Amethyst eyes took in my wide eyes and flushed face and misinterpreted the expression. "Sorry, it just makes me furious. You are such a sweet guy and you really don't deserve to be treated like this. I hate it… the way people treat each other. It's sickening and contemptible and you shouldn't be subjected to it."

_Note to self: look up the word contemptible. You are a lawyer, you big pile of failure, and should know what that means._

The emotion behind her words struck me through my insignificance mental rant, more than the words themselves. I felt my attraction delve into something deeper, something like affection. Except more. What's that word? Adoration? I trusted myself enough to answer, "Hey, you don't have to apologize. I'd feel the same way if someone did this to you."

She gestured impatiently. "Not the same thing."

I didn't know what she meant by that. Was she implying there was a different rule for guys and girls? Or was she secretly trying to tell me something? I struggled to think of how to respond and come off as sensitive when somehow I understood. "No, you're right. It'd be worse so much worse if you were stood up. That'd be the downfall of the male human race right there. Unforgivable. Which is why it has never happened, I'm sure. I mean, look at you." I smiled, trying not to look or sound as obsessive as I felt. "You, like… _illuminate_ this dark place."

Rachel's mouth fell, her lovely lips separated by her surprise intake of breath. I felt so completely aware of everything she did, every shift of her body, every sweep of those long dark eyelashes when she blinked. And trust me— I'd give anything to be able to tell her this. But knowing me I'd stutter myself into a seizure or just come off as a total creeper.

Several things seemed to be going through her mind. I wished I knew what they were. Did I freak her out with my awkwardness? Damn why did I have to say anything? I waited in nervous agony, ready for her dismissal. Finally she looked at me, an unfathomable expression in her eyes. "Logan, will you do something for me?" she asked softly.

"Absolutely." There was probably no limit to what I would do for this girl.

"Please tell me who stood you up."

…Shit. I was not cut out for this kind of quick-thinking. My brain practically had a cramp as I freaked out mentally. _Shit! Ah! Okay! Make up a name! Wait no, you suck at creativity! Okay! Ah! Shit! Just pick someone random! Kori? Gah no they're friends! Wally? He's a guy! Mom? Nonono ahh!_

"Audrey Gent," I answered, surprising the hell out of myself. I had no idea what possessed me to say my neighbor's name. It was almost laughable to imagine Audrey doing such a thing—she was such a friendly girl. Like Snow White, that is if Snow White ever did scene. Nevertheless my mind deflated in relief.

Rachel blinked once, her face set in a hard expression. She seemed to be having an inward conversation that I wished to hear. Suddenly I felt a little edgy. "You know she's really not such a bad girl, I'm sure she has a great reason for being late."

All of a sudden she switched from cold and calculating to innocent. "I'm sure you're right," she said in what looked and sounded like agreement, but still didn't feel right. My expression must have tipped her off because she dropped the act immediately.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything," she scowled in irritation, like I had taken away her favorite toy.

"You really don't have to," I said urgently, "I'd really rather you didn't." If she did, she'd learn the inevitable truth. That Audrey was one of the nicest girls on the planet and I was just another scumbag. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself.

Rachel shrugged, still looking put out. I wished with all of my heart that someone really had stood me up. That way I could feel properly happy that she cared about me enough to seek revenge. As it was I just felt angry with myself. She really was too good for me.

"I hope you know you deserve more," she suddenly said, fiercely in a tone that did not allow any argument.

I disagreed anyway, but didn't say so. "So do you," I answered instead, miserably meaning myself.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**End of chapter four.**

**So, what'd ya think?**

**AKA: I'm fishing for compliments. Or any feedback. Please review!**

**Love!Rose**


	5. Chapter 5

**Letters to Logic**

**By Rose**

**Disclaimer: Nope.**

**It's feckin' hot in my dorm. Ooh de lally.**

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XIII: Don't Poke the Bear

(Wally)

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Whenever I watch television I always seem to stumble across the Discovery Channel's latest episode of intense-explorer-seeks-out-highly-dangerous-animals. As I watch these biologists (of sorts) manhandle/molest deadly snakes, sharks, spiders, or alligators I wonder if their calm-yet-enthusiastic expression is just a facade. Like, behind their "Blimey, look at the size of this suckah! Oh, here she comes, gettin' ready to defend her territory, mates! Gorgeous! _Gorgeous_!" they're really thinking: "Oh shit man! Back the fuck up, you scary mother fucking snake! Shit! Damn! Remember the million dollar contract! Sweet Jesus, no! _Fangs_!"

Hang on now...What was I talking about?

Oh right. The real emotions concealed by these animal experts. Guys (as well as those female daredevil biologists), I have never held more sympathy for you. Next time you come across something terrifying, feel free to just scream like a hormonal teenager discovering a pimple on prom night. It's not like I'll judge.

We can't always be brave.

"Dude. Are you sure this is going to work?"

"It's worth a shot, Logan," I said with a shrug, attempting to seem indifferent as I checked my reflection in the mirror. My eyes focused on the black bowler hat I had bought from a nearby department store. I tugged it down over my forehead, determined to hide every strand of red hair.

"Should've just told Jenny to shave my head," I muttered as a few stubborn hairs escaped. Logan handed me a wet paper towel and I took it gratefully to wet the annoying strands and hold them in place. With my hat secure I turned to my associate hopefully. "Does it cover all the red?"

Logan nodded, checking to make sure the hair on the back of my head was tucked away as well. "Yeah, you're good. Just don't move around too much," He told me, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pair of black shades. "In fact, no sudden movements period."

I chuckled shortly, but deep down I knew he was only half kidding. "Yeah... well. Time to face the music."

Logan didn't move as I walked towards the exit of the men's bathroom. "Go ahead, dude. I'll catch up."

I stared at him, trying to keep my brave face steady. "You aren't hiding in the bathroom all day."

"...Why not?"

"Logan!"

"Dude! I'm like... _actually_ scared."

Y_eah, well, so am I! And there is no way I am walking out there by myself!_ But I knew better than to take that approach; he would just persuade me to chill in the bathroom with him and then the people by the water cooler would mock us. Or worse, Dick would use the bathroom and we'd be trapped and I don't want to die in a men's bathroom.

I attempted to persuade him with confident reassurance. Basically, I lied. "Okay. Dick is going through a bad time right now, but I don't think he would actually ever hurt us," I said soothingly.

"He punched you in the face."

I blinked, taken aback. "Okay, point. But-,"

"He also clawed my shirt and shoved you into the wall," Logan listed, and I smacked myself inwardly for trying to skim over details with a fellow lawyer.

"Okay, okay! Well, my point is that he's had time to calm down. He's probably around the same level as a seriously pissed off Dick. Not scary, bringing in a sawed-off shotgun Dick."

Logan made a face and took a step back from the door. "Then why am I wearing sunglasses and you a hat?"

"Well, I don't want to poke the bear," I said in exasperation.

"What?" Logan asked, clearly ignorant of the phrase.

I stepped behind him and pushed him firmly towards the door. "Best foot forward! C'mon." Logan struggled half-heartedly, hissing that bears could rage even without a poke, and we stepped out of the bathroom onto the lobby.

And bumped right into Dick.

_Shit_! I was face to face with the guy and I knew immediately that he was no where near back to normal. Logan literally squeaked in alarm and I did not blame him at all.

Dick's face had seen better days. Heavy circles were embedded beneath his eyes, immediately suggesting he had not slept the previous night. He had not shaved, either... or showered. Possibly hadn't brushed his teeth... was that the same suit as yesterday?

Glazed blue eyes regarded us in mild confusion, possibly trying to assess if we were friend or foe. Or prey.

"Hey there, big guy!" I said in a cheerful voice, hoping to God my hair was still hidden away.

He blinked and nodded slowly, opening his mouth as though to say something and then closing it.

Logan said nothing and just stared at Dick like he expected him to pull out a samurai light saber and decapitate us. Which was hard to do with half his face covered by sunglasses. I nudged him slightly, trying to telepathically translate: be friendly! Show him you're friends!

"What?" he hissed between teeth clenched into a determinedly cheerful grin/grimace.

"Be nice!"

"_What_?"

"Flatter him!" I whispered in a cough, and Dick narrowed his eyes at us, suddenly aware of our subtle exchange.

"What-," he began slowly, and Logan laughed that awkwardly high-pitched laugh of his when he gets nervous and sputtered, "Hey there, handsome man!"

Dick's mouth stayed open as he stared at us, and I felt like burying my face in my hands and never reemerging. Instead I smiled broader and steered Logan towards my office with my shoulder. "Well, we should be getting back to work! Bye now!"

"You look good!" Logan threw in for good measure as I shut the door of my office, and let my forced smile drop from my face.

"Great creeping Jesus!" I exclaimed as Logan sat down on the suede couch and hugged himself. "That was like dealing with a... a..." I was at a loss and checked my hair in the abstractly shaped mirrors on a wall panel. All was well; red hair was completely hidden.

"Sleepy homicidal bear getting ready to fuck shit up?" Logan offered, eying the door warily. His sunglasses were pulled on top of his head and I knew if anyone opened the door he'd probably injure himself in the rush to pull them back over his eyes.

I snorted, feeling better now that I was safe in my office.

_Knock, knock._

"Gah!" Logan's arms spastically moved to the top of his head, shoving the sunglasses down just as our boss walked in.

"Good morning," Valor greeted gruffly, holding a file that I immediately knew had to deal with the Brooks signing. "I need you to-," he paused as he took in my hat.

"...Why the hat?" He asked, and I could see his thoughts churning perspicaciously, ready to attack any form of denial with the towering evidence: "but you never _wear_ a hat! _Aha__!_"

Sometimes I wondered how he made it through law school.

"Thinning hair," I lied easily with a smile.

He considered this and I looked up at his bald head.

Maybe not the best approach.

With a deep, sympathetic sigh he nodded. "It happens to the best of us. Well, I came in here to ask-," He seemed to notice Logan sitting on the couch for the first time. The kid did look pretty ridiculous with his hands firmly holding his sunglasses in place.

"...Uh..." Valor seemed at a loss. "Why the sunglasses?"

Logan finally caught on to his weird position and calmly put his hands in his lap. "Oh. Um. Eye... doctor."

"Optometrist," I supplied.

"Yeah."

Valor stared, shrewd expression back in place. After a few seconds of internal deliberation, he finally answered, "Fair enough."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XIV: Unexpected and Unfamiliar Romantic Success

(Jenny)

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First date: _f__erst dayte_ (n) the initial meeting between two willing individuals who wish to develop a romantic relationship. Also, step one in the process of getting properly and regularly laid by one person. Typically includes dinner, a movie, possible visit to a club or a bar, the drive/ride home and the first kiss/make out session. Does not include sex unless you want the unfavorable label: Skanky McHoebag.

I knew this routine. You put on the stilettos that hurt like a bitch but make your legs look damn fine. After extensive hygiene care you slip into the dress that may seem like an ordinary dress but is actually a lethal weapon. Of sex. And power. Yeah. Then you beat your hair into submission, slap a little too much make up on your face, try to take some off in order to not look like a hooker, check yourself out in the mirror, and then off you go. You may encounter unpleasant obstacles- he's grabby, the restaurant sucks, you trip over a homeless man, yada yada yada- and by the end you definitely know what to expect out of the relationship. Which is usually why you end up swearing off men and drinking your disappointments away to the sounds of Celine Dion- do _not_ judge me.

Go ahead and call me dramatic, but when you've gone through this probably twenty times, you'd probably resort to such theatrical descriptions as well.

Like I said, I knew this routine.

So when Wally told me he'd pick me up at two o'clock, my expectations were abruptly shaken. "Two? In the afternoon? Are we... like, having lunch?" I asked, picking lint off my pink plaid pajama bottoms as I sat on my living room sofa and talked to Wally on my cell phone.

"No, but if you'd like to we can get lunch before," He offered. I heard papers shuffling around and I would have bet twenty bucks that he was sitting in his office, leaning over his desk and multi-tasking as he talked to me on his office phone.

"Well, where are we going? What are we doing?" I asked in confusion, accustomed to dates that only involved getting food.

"'Fraid I can't tell you that. Oh, I'm getting a call back from a client-,"

"That's okay, you can go. Oh but wait one more thing!"

"Yeah babe?" He asked and guess what? He didn't sound the least bit sleazy, condescending, or impatient.

My smile grew. "What should I wear?"

"Oh! Um... Definitely clothes you don't care about," He answered, leaving me in bafflement. "Gotta go, pick you up tomorrow!"

I stared at the phone in confusion. "What does that mean?" I asked but he had already hung up.

The next day I learned that 'wear clothes you don't care about' can be interpreted as 'we're playing paint ball so get ready to get seriously unclean!'

I raced behind a nearby stack of tires, my blue and orange paint-splattered fingers tightened around one of my last purple balloons. My right side of my face was coated in green paint, yellow paint trickled down my neck and stained my old high school tie-dyed tank top, and I had every virtually paint color on the color spectrum on my torn white cargo pants.

I was disgusting. _This is great!_ I thought inwardly, trying to stifle my rampant excitement and heart-fluttering paranoia. The enemy was no where to be seen, and I had a purple paint ball to smash in his face.

"Who're you lookin' for?" A low voice suddenly growled in my ear, and I shrieked and tried to leap away. Unfortunately Wally had anticipated that and grabbed me securely from behind, swinging me around in a tight embrace as I laughed and wiggled in an attempt to escape. I saw a pink balloon clenched in his hand and knew his plan immediately. Tucked under his one arm, I couldn't move away as he began to bring his hand down on top of my head.

I could move forward though. Without a second thought I jumped up, wrapping my arms around his neck as I pulled his face toward mine and savored his delighted expression as he met me halfway, dropped the paint ball on the ground and half-lifted me in a phenomenal first kiss.

The smell of paint, the frying pavement in the sun, and strewn about hay was thick in the air as I kissed Wally West. The air was hot and bright with sun, and I could see the red tinge of light through the lids of my closed eyes. I felt so ridiculously happy in that moment and I wanted to document every detail. His mouth moved firmly against mine, skipping over any gentle or tender probings and I liked his confidence, slipping my tongue across his lips, loving the feel of his mouth moving into a smile.

He kissed me once, twice, and a third time before pulling me away. The look on his face was more than enough fuel for one hundred smiles. Grinning widely I studied his happy expression and didn't hesitate to smash purple paint into his red hair.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XV: The Gauntlet is Thrown: the Battle of the Social Media

(Dick)

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Breaking up with someone is no longer the "we need to talk" procedure of once upon a time. Dearly beloved, do I miss those days.

Instead, today you have the social network that does not let you quietly call it quits with someone. As soon as you switch from "in a relationship" to "single" everyone you have befriended suddenly knows. People you went to high school or college with, or see at the workplace now have full permission to take it upon themselves to press that tempting like "like" button, or worse: comment.

** Dick Grayson** is now single

**Roy Harper** Congrats man! GET SOME!

**Victor Stone** roy you are 27. get some MATURITY

**Kitten Moth** likelikelikelike ;)

**Jerry Cohen** :( but I liked Kori

**Alan Waters **Really Roy? Sorry about your break up, man. There are other fish in the sea :)

**Roy Harpe**r shut up vic. at least im not MARRIED. and al? stop hitting on dick.

**Alan Waters** I wasn't hitting on him, and there's an apostrophe in 'I'm' you illiterate

**Willy Beast** TIME TO RAGE!1!

**Roy Harper** stop trying to teach me grammer. and you were throwing yourself at him.

**Alan Waters** G-r-a-m-m-a-r. I rest my case. And are you jealous, pretty boy?

**Victor Stone** whats wrong with being married?

**Roy Harper** You wish.

**Logan Garfields** I don't think there's anything wrong with being married. Dick, sorry about your... relationship loss, dude. (Bethany Honey likes this)

**Alan Water**s Don't presume to know what I wish, Roy.

**Roy Harper** I know you wish for your boyfriend to bring you chinese tonight at your place ;)

**Alan Waters** ...okay. :)

**Dick Grayson** this is all very comforting. thank you.

**Roy Harper** don't be such a dick in the mud! lolololol geddit? (**Victor Stone**, **Alan Waters**, **Bethany ****Honey,** and **Logan** **Garfields** like this)

Charming. I really need to be more selective about who I befriend on facebook. A few days after the throw-down between Kori and I at Value&Valor I was perusing the addictive website as I waited for my pizza to arrive. As I searched absentmindedly through the newsfeed, I noticed Kori's single status still showed up towards the bottom.

It was a sharp sting to view it over and over again, but something besides the reminder of our break up caught my attention.

My mouth fell open in astonishment.

_Is that... **fifty**-**seven** likes?_

Even though my subconscious warned me not to do it, I clicked the link that gave me a list of the people who clicked 'like' and felt that red-hot seep of apoplectic rage seep through me as I saw male after male (with the exception of Rachel) on the list.

The pizza arrived and for once in my life food was no helpful distraction. I sat and I stewed over the facebook page, glaring angrily at the lit computer screen of my macbook.

Looks like Kori wouldn't have any trouble finding someone for her rebound. I snarled while chewing my mushroom and sausage pizza, choked a little bit, recovered, and then resumed feeling overwhelmingly pissed off. I wanted to track down every single one of these douchebags but I couldn't.

The ironic thing about this whole thing was that I was never particularly jealous or possessive when I dated Kori. Men would flirt with her and women would flirt with me, but we had this understanding that it never meant a thing. It was actually pretty laughable to imagine that either one of us would cheat. We were way too wrapped up in each other to even think about other people.

Only now that we weren't dating, it would probably make sense that she'd have every right to take advantage of her abundant fans. And I couldn't do a thing about it. No matter how much I wanted to ninja-viking-cannibal-pirate attack every male that attempted to talk to her.

_Son of a bitch._

It was time to get drunk.

Several beers and one Maroon5 CD later, I was having quite the solo party.

A review: I stumbled into the middle of the dance floor- I mean, living room- stood on my dark suede ottoman, wielded my empty beer bottle like a microphone and belted, "T_his! Love! Has! Taken its toll, oh baby, she's said GOODBYE! Too many times before-ohhhh! AND HER! HEART! HAS!-_"

I'm not proud of it. Especially when I began talking to my macbook like it was a living, breathing thing with the capability to understand me. "You know, Mac, _t__his-THIS_ is what pisses me off. She just... breaks it off! And cuts her hair! And then expects me to... what? To like, congratulation her? _Fuck_ _that_! Ya'know what I'm saying?"

Mac stayed quiet because he is a good listener.

"I should just hack into her account and de-friend every guy that fucking pressed 'like' because they are... insensitive... and..." I trailed off as I caught up with my idea, and began to smile in a rather sinister fashion. _I'd bet anything that Kori forgot I conveniently knew her password..._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XVI: Too Many Smiles in One Afternoon

(Jenny)

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On my second date with Wally West I was still spotting paint in the most awkward places on my body and I seriously could not wait to see and kiss him again.

Let me just clarify something. I have kissed many guys. I've even kissed some girls. There have been good kisses with just the right amount of tongue and no teeth-collisions or the gross string of saliva when we parted. There have been some bad kisses with too much tongue or gross dry zero tongue action and bad breath and many other unfortunate circumstances.

And whenever I kissed someone I would always search for signs of a good kiss or a bad kiss. My thoughts flew everywhere, especially if the kissing accelerated to naughtier activities and my brain would practically overexert itself as I overanalyzed every move they made and how I responded. It was rather distracting, understandably.

Kissing Wally was something else entirely. My thoughts were dulled to a gentle hum that was only interrupted with nonsense like "ho'snap he's good at that" and "yesss do that again" and so on. I don't really understand it. What was it about him that made kissing something new and exciting after years of normality? I've never bought the whole soul-mate/true-love Disney crap but this was pretty good evidence that for some reason Wally stood out among the other romantic participants in my life and I wanted to know why.

_Let's think about this logically. He kisses me and my brain shuts down and my pulse jumpstarts. Theories: his saliva is spiked with ecstasy, he wears cologne that chemically impairs my brain activity, he does weird mind tricks because he's secretly a ninja warrior trained the in the arts of ...making out?_

Well, the only thing left to do is experiment by kissing him again and seeing if the same thing happens.

Wally told me he would pick me up at my apartment which prompted insane hours of early morning cleaning and general domestic practices. I actually set my alarm for seven o'clock in the morning in order to dust, vacuum, sweep, mop _everything_. I was machine. I made brownies, for heaven's sake. Which only ended up being taken to work as a special treat, but whatever.

The finished product was rather nice. My table was un-cluttered, my cat was brushed, all cat hair was vacuumed away, the plants were watered, and the apartment was pretty much spotless. As soon as he walked in- well, actually I attacked him with a hello-kiss, but after that he grinned and eyed the area with appreciation. "Damn. This place is clean."

I shrugged. "Really? It's pretty much always like this."

He pinched my side and looked at me skeptically, and I fought to keep a straight face. "You don't believe me? I'm like Martha Stuart. With better hair." My serious expression slipped and Wally snorted loudly, prompting me to end the charade.

"No really! I just wake up and call on my woodland animal friends and together we sing a happy song and put the house back in order and-," I stopped as he laughed, and took him on the short tour of my home.

If he was unimpressed by my miniscule living space he didn't show it. Instead he replaced a light bulb that I'd left unattended because it was too high up. He also messed up my neatly-made bed and rolled around on the comforter. "I approve of this bed," he announced and I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you this it needs your approval?" I asked, liking the sight of him sprawled lazily on my bed a little too much. _Don't give it up on just the second date._

Wally sat up on his elbows and smiled his goofy-yet-sexy smile at me. "Oh I foresee some serious time being spent in here."

I kept my composure even though immediately my heart rate picked up speed. "Do you?"

"Mmmhmm. For naps and the like, of course."

I laughed and he rolled out of the bed and marched to my closet. After counting the number of shoes, in dismay, he went through my clothes and picked out an acceptable outfit. "This would work for what we're doing today."

I eyed his pick which turned out to be gray yoga pants and a green and white stripped tank top. "Are we doing something not-normal?" I asked, eying the outfit with curiosity.

He just smiled and left the room so I could change. In the time it took me to plait my hair, put on make up, change, and check myself out in the mirror, he had figured out what was wrong with my clogged sink and fixed it.

I don't know if males truly comprehend how sexy it is when they manage to fix things. I would marry a handyman or a plumber if I could find one attractive enough for my standards. As it was, I barely kept myself from doing Wally right there when he brightly informed me that my sink "should work now!"

...Okay, so I didn't exactly restrain myself, but I like to think he rather enjoyed getting mauled against the kitchen counter.

After an extremely satisfying make-out session, Wally blissfully told me our destination. My mouth dropped open but immediately widened into an excited grin. "For serious? Bungee jumping? You're bullshitting me, right?"

"Nope!" He answered, popping his lips on the 'P' and I actually let out a squeal of sheer excitement.

"Oh my God! I have always wanted to try this!" I told him as we climbed into his beautiful convertible and Wally gave me a rather spectacular smile with the classic Ray Bands on his face.

"What?" I asked, wishing I could hear what he was thinking.

"Nothing, I just... I'm really, really happy right now," He said, his smile growing as I slipped my hand through his where it rested on the stick shift. I laced my fingers through his and squeezed briefly, letting go only when he had to change gears.

We didn't say anything else as he sped forward and after a couple minutes of companionable silence he pressed play on the CD player. I braced myself, knowing that whatever song played would be branded into my brain as 'Our Song' and I hoped to God it wouldn't be something really corny or lame or-

Weird vibes and an off-beat voice started singing and I relaxed as I recognized the Gorillaz remix of 19-2000, or Soul Child. To say it was pretty much perfect for the late summer afternoon would be a bit of an understatement. Wally wasn't the type of person who sang loudly or drummed their fingers unnecessarily; he just sat and enjoyed the music.

My bare feet rested idly on the dashboard and I closed my eyes, feeling the wind rush over my face and through my plaited hair. Warm summer sun soaked us both as Wally drove passed the city and into the outskirts of town.

This kind of peace and contentment can't be bottled up, but I wish it could. These are the sort of memories that help me through bitterly frigid early April days of gray skies, slow business, and general blah.

Although if I still had Wally, chances are I would still be having ridiculous amounts of fun.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XVII: I Will Destroy You

(Kori)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The walls had silk on them. The silk was the actual wallpaper.

_This place is like Versailles but without the liberal amounts of champaign and frilly shoes._

My sister's guest bedroom was obscenely huge and had more than enough space for my supply of books, clothes, shoes, furniture, and miscellaneous materials. With the patience of an extremely good-looking and well dressed saint Cora helpfully took out most of the furniture originally in the bedroom to make room for my pie safe, coffee table, purple armchair, and wrought iron birdcage that held my freesia plant.

I promised her it would only be for a few days, eying the silvery silk wall paper distractedly. This house- mansion- was so beautiful I felt utterly grungy in comparison. Cora wouldn't hear a word of my promises and assured me that I was welcome to stay until I got back on my feet and found a suitable job and apartment.

One of the best things about living with Cora was her consistent support and appreciated bashing of Dick. She had plenty of room to spare and genuinely enjoyed my company when her husband, Slade Wilson, traveled for business. Which he often did. After a couple of days I got the impression that she'd been a little lonely in the huge house all by herself.

Not that I particularly liked it when he was home. That was probably the only downside of living with my sister. If you haven't caught on yet, let me just say that I never liked my sisters husband, and I'm assuming, if you've heard of him, you don't either. But that's an entirely different story.

It was Thursday morning and I had a job interview at eleven o'clock, another one at two o'clock, and a third one at four o'clock. To shake my nerves I decided to make my bed, hoping the clean atmosphere would soothe me somehow. I even hummed my favorite show tune, "All for the Best" from _God's Spell_, for good luck.

"Kori!" Cora called from either the opposite wing, or the floor below. It was always difficult to tell in a house of this size.

"Yes?" I called back, hoping I wasn't about to be distracted from my plans to take a shower.

"Um. Have... have you been on facebook lately?" She called, her tone full of bewilderment and choked laughter.

"...What?" I asked, automatically reaching for my sleeping macbook. I logged into my facebook with a strange feeling of trepidation.

All looked normal, except-

My mouth fell open as I read my status.

**Kori Anders **cannot lie to herself anymore. Attention everyone. I am a raging lesbian. I love the woman. Sexually. So sucks for any guy who plans on loving me up, because I love ladies. The only man I'm hot for is DICK GRAYSON but he was too much man for me.

My mind stuttered in fury. _What? He did NOT- Oh my god my PASSWORD, that son of a- FUCK Aunt Jeanie looks at this! Thirty six comments? fuckshitdamn NO-_

My scream echoed throughout my sister's home as I shrieked,"_THAT BASTARD!_"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Part XIX: Insecurity Ruins Everything and Likes It

(Jenny)

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On my third date with Wally West, I literally couldn't wait to get out of the cab to his apartment and maul him. I half hoped he hadn't planned any crazy, spectacular activity because all I really wanted was him and a mattress of sorts. Or a couch. Honestly the floor would do.

This might have been the product of one seriously NC-17 rated dream that he'd starred in the previous night. I didn't even care anymore. The hell with waiting. Let's get this party started. The pants party that is. You know, the one with the party... and the pants?

Brick, are you trying to tell me that there's a party in your pants, and that I'm invited?

Sorry. When I get giddy I'm prone to Anchorman quotes.

I practically bounced in my seat the entire taxi ride to his place. That is, until I saw the building he lived in. It was massive. It was decadent. It had ivy climbing up the side and glorious balconies and he lived there. "Holy shite..." I muttered, handing the taxi driver a wad of bills. The driver, a middle-aged woman with brutally short ash blonde hair, took the time to count the money carefully, eying my pink hair distrustfully.

_Cool_.

It wasn't the first time my character was questioned because of my outlandish hair coloring, and it wouldn't be the last. Needless to say, I didn't smirk my usual smirk or give her a sassy wink. Instead I folded my palms over the torn holes in my jeans, bit my lip as I eyed the massive building through the filthy cab window, and thanked her politely when she begrudgingly gave me the okay to leave.

There will always be days where you wake up and feel unexplainably unattractive. It's something about the way the skin sits on your face, or the way the clothes rest on your imperfect body. You don't like the way you look and you just deal. Today I had woken up and felt perfectly fine, so it was an unexpected blow to the ego when I took in his apartment building and then suddenly felt like hell.

I think he explained that his apartment was one of the 'perks' of working at Value&Valor. The building was owned by his boss and he distributed the apartments sparingly, to the workers who won his approval. The building was magnificently beautiful and all the more intimidating. I took out my phone and read the text message he'd sent earlier. Following his instructions I walked into the lobby which was obnoxiously opulent.

After gaping at the abundant plant life and lovely paintings I found the elevator and walked in. Glass doors slid shut and I eyed the beautiful interior in annoyance and pressed the fifth floor key. "Jesus," I sighed as the elevator lifted up in that uncomfortable lurch. I fumbled with my phone distractedly, but my eyes didn't focus. Instead I looked back in time and reviewed every moment of the previous date when he had seen my apartment. The building itself was rather dismal in comparison to this beast of an apartment building. Not to mention my microscopic apartment. He had to have been comparing them- it was only natural that he would.

I snorted quietly, certain he had hid his derision well, or I had just been too blind to see it.

The doors opened and I tried to quell the self-conscious feelings stirring inside me. "Go to the right," I instructed myself, remembering his text, and choked back a hysterical giggle when I realized that there were only two number doors. Which meant there were only two apartments on this floor.

_Is that a joke? His place is going to be massive._

I knocked on the door squarely, rubbing my mouth with my hands in one last effort to get rid of the bitter sneer and look natural.

"Come in!" A muffled voice called through the door and I opened the door and walked into one of the most beautiful apartments I had ever seen. Even though I had braced myself for something unfairly lovely, the details of the place were still like punches to the confidence. High ceilings with beautifully intricate wall panels and moldings incased the first room. There were lots of windows that let in plenty of beautiful light on the bright, shiny wood floors. Arched doorways led to more rooms with equally beautiful details, and I felt all the breath rush out of me in awe.

It was glorious and I had never felt more poor.

Wally walked in, pulling on a navy t-shirt over a rather well-developed chest but his gorgeousness seemed to only distance us further. _Stop it._ I plastered a smile on my face. "Nice place," I commented, trying to sound aloof.

He looked around and I inwardly hit myself for giving him yet another reason to compare his living space with my own. "It's a place to live," he said with a shrug, "but I've never really gotten around to making it my home, you know?"

I didn't know. "Yeah," I answered in forced agreement, suddenly ridiculously depressed. Wally looked at me suddenly, studying me carefully. "Hey," he said, and when I looked at him he smiled. "You haven't given me my hello-kiss yet."

Was that customary? I had kissed him when he walked in the door the last date. I had been so happy to see him and proud that he got to see my home in its clean glory- _ha, that's a laugh._

"I haven't, have I?" I said with a breezy smile. That kiss hello had been something. Really something. I'd answered the door in my pajamas and he had stepped in, a large step that made me back up, but he was still really close. And I had risen to my tip toes and kissed him firmly, fighting a smile when his fingers wrapped around my waist and traced shapes into the small of my back. It had felt amazing.

I blinked, back in the present. Were we going too fast? Wasn't it too soon to feel so good with another person? Weren't you supposed to teach them how to make you feel that great, and learn what makes them feel good too?

And weren't you supposed to be somewhat on equal levels with them?

Wally stepped forward, looking a little concerned now, but I didn't want him to worry about me. I didn't want to think anymore; it was kind of exhausting. I smirked and ran forward, jumping up to fit neatly into his arms. My legs wrapped securely around his waist and he folded his hands around my waist smiling that slow-happy-smile now. "Well hello," He chuckled and I laughed with him, running a hand through his hair to fix its part. "Where'd you go just a second ago?"

"Spaced out," I answered with a vague shrug. "What was it you wanted?"

His fingers traveled until they fit snugly under my butt and I squirmed, giggling when he pretended to ponder the question. "I think I asked for a kiss?" he said in an unsure voice. "Or maybe it was sex. Probably the lat-mmph," I kissed him fully on the lips, draping my arms over his shoulders as I leaned into the kiss.

_I'm really going to miss you when it doesn't work out,_ I thought but all coherent thought disappeared after that. He was just so good at it this, I couldn't think straight. I loved the distraction though and I kissed him hard, shivering when he made a sound of enormous contentment and then pulled back. It was only for a few seconds but I gently wrapped my teeth around his bottom lip, basking in his shudder as I felt the deliciously tug when he pulled away.

It surprised him, in a good way, and he quickly kissed me again with sudden passion, licking into my mouth with surprising force and shocking the hell out of me. Where had that come from? This was the first act of genuine male assertion and although I could have fought back to regain dominance, I let him explore my mouth, tentatively touching his tongue with my own, feeling pleased and horny as hell when he let out a low "_hmm_" and playfully squeezed my ass.

_Cheeky bastard_. I squeaked in mild surprise and impulsively tightened my legs around his waist, bringing my hips as close to his as I dared, and even closer when he groaned and ground his hips into mine- oh holy _shit-did I say that aloud?_- "how the hell do you work your shirt?"- we were moving away from the living room, down some vast hallway through his long steady strides and I closed my eyes to the beautiful fixtures, hiding away my insecurities for another time. This was all too wonderful to experience without further self-conscious thoughts.

I leaned down to press a wet kiss against his protruding collar bone and bit gently, smiling around the kiss when he smacked my butt lightly and said, "Marking your territory already?" I grinned but didn't answer as I licked my way to a spot beneath his ear and sucked lightly, loving it when his breath caught and he growled, "oh _fuck_ yes," and slid his hands under my jeans.

I pulled back suddenly to kiss him again, but he caught my gaze with his own. "So, just so we're clear," he said in an attempt to sound joking, but the desperation in his eyes gave him away, "you are consenting to me ravishing you until you can't see straight, right?"

A rush of heat flooded me and knocked me utterly breathless. "Um," I managed eloquently, "Yes."

"Really?" He asked, an ear-splitting grin bursting onto his face. "Because I sort of had a cool date with a hot air balloon ride-,"

I leaned down and kissed him, biting his lips a little harder than I intended and he groaned happily. "Right then!" He managed, and picked up speed to his bedroom, half-galloping and I exploded into laughter at his excitement.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XX: Mark this Date. This is Officially a National Holiday.

(Wally)

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There is something kind of awesome and perfect about spending the entire day in bed with your new girlfriend. Not to mention, after what I swear to God was the best sex of my life, having said girlfriend briskly sit up and poke you in the chest and demand, "I am sort of hungry. Can we order pizza?"

And then ordering pizza. And having it delivered and then eating it in bed. And then watching the last half of _Bend it like Beckham_ and trading back massages and then continuing explicit activities that prompt a serious tickle fight and then a much slower, yet just as good, version of sex.

Jenny watched me sleepily, half-dozing as I grinned what was probably a really stupid, shit-eating grin. I couldn't help it. Wow. I mean, holy-hot-banana-pants-wow!

"Can you die of happiness?" I asked idly, and she smirked into the covers, nestling further underneath the sheet.

"I d'know," she said sleepily, "Probably."

I laughed and scooted lower into bed, following her as she made herself comfortable for a well-deserved nap. "Well. What a way to go," I said with utmost acceptance, and felt happy when she giggled.

I felt myself get sleepy too and closed my eyes, momentarily drifting off into a needed nap. What felt like seconds later, a tentative touch to my cheek woke me up. The room had gotten relatively dimmer and I was startled to note that it was much later than I realized. "Whoa," I rumbled sleepily, "Sorry I didn't realize how late it was."

"Wally?" Jenny asked, fully awake and sitting up. I looked at her with attention, wondering what prompted her thoughtful tone. "Do you..." she began and faltered, "did you know that I never went to college?"

I blinked, bewildered by the turn in the conversation. "I've only known you for about a week, and it never came up so... no. But now I do."

"I barely finished high school," she continued, "and I just went right on to beauty school after that. I knew I wanted to cut hair, and I took a couple night courses at a community college to learn about owning a business but... other than that my education was pretty minimal."

I was about to make a joke, a very clever one- mind you, but something in her voice made me refrain. She almost sounded vulnerable which was completely unlike her. I sat up and touched her shoulder carefully, alarmed when she tensed.

"So what about you?" She asked in a hard voice, "We might as well compare our education too. Where did you go to school?"

"Stanford," I obliged, feeling embarrassed as I said it, and then annoyed that I felt embarrassed about going to a great school. "Is there a reason you're grilling me about this?"

Jenny glared and opened her mouth to say something probably vicious, but something clicked suddenly. "Wait," I cut her off, "What do you mean compare our educations too?"

She closed her mouth abruptly and I felt a flash of real annoyance. "Let me get this straight- you're putting barriers between us? Is there a reason for this?"

Jenny rolled her eyes, "It's kind of hard _not_ to do, Wally. I mean, tell me you didn't do the same thing when you stepped into my salon. Or my apartment."

I shook my head. "Actually I didn't. I went into your salon to find you. Same thing with your apartment. All of it looked fine to me. What, did you walk into my apartment and feel... _poor_ or something?" I asked in confusion.

Jenny stared at me like I was missing something essential. "Yes," she finally said and I flopped back down on my back in exasperation. She stayed sitting up, running her hands through her hair nervously. "This isn't just me," she said evenly, "This is every single person I meet at your... Value&Valor place that judges me for my hair."

"I like your hair," I offered, hoping that was enough.

She smiled half-heartedly, but it was quickly replaced with a frown. "It's the people who raise their eyebrows and say 'oh how interesting' when I tell them I run a salon."

Dick's cutting insults about Jinxed suddenly reemerged in my mind, and I narrowed my eyes at the ceiling. _Should've punched that asshole in the face when I had the chance._

"Why are you doing this?" I asked carefully, and she looked at me sadly. "Are you giving up already?"

Jenny flinched and I was all-too relieved. If she hadn't, I probably would've done something drastic, like lock her in and refuse to let her go.

She didn't want out. She just felt overwhelmed and was backing down to protect herself. _Quitter_.

"No," she protested, "but I am just preparing myself for when you realize you can do better!" She finished it with a laugh in an attempt to sound joking, but it was clearly forced and for the for once I was not in the mood for jokes.

"Who is better?" I demanded and she exhaled in annoyance, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't know! Lauren! She does yoga and rides horses and teaches children in elementary school! She's nice and polite and respectable and went to college and lives in a nice apartment and is a Republican!" She cut herself off abruptly and folded her arms tightly in annoyance, but I could see she was dead serious.

I gaped. "What-,"

"Shut up, you know you're perfectly suited for someone like that," she snapped and I burst out laughing.

"Babe, I _have_ met someone like that. I mean, not every detail, but essentially the same type. And they're _boring_ and... first of all, I'm allergic to horses. Why would I date someone who rode them?"

"So you can ride on the beach together," Jenny explained impatiently, her tone suggesting that this was obvious.

"Ah," I said delicately, "Right well. Unless Laura-,"

"_Lauren_," she hissed through clenched teeth.

"-Lauren wanted me to break out into painful hives, we would not be doing that. And teaching elementary school is just annoying. Plus, since you're so fixated on the idea that I would compare our salaries, I'm pretty sure owning a salon pays more than teaching youngin's."

Jenny was sulking in silence and I grinned.

"What else did you say. Republican? I would never. I am a Libertarian and believe in maximizing the rights of the individual and decreasing the powers of the government," I explained proudly and her lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile.

"Is that a smile I see?" I asked, poking her side, and she smacked my hand away but let herself smile.

"A libertarian lawyer?" she asked and I nodded deeply. "I am a complex man with many mysterious layers..." She snickered and I finally relaxed when she slid down to lie next to me, and then rolled to rest on top of me, resting her chin on my chest and tucking one of her legs under mine. I propped myself up with one arm behind my head and looked at her seriously, caressing the side of her face with my other free hand.

"What was that all about?" I asked softly and she tried to bury her face in my chest but I hooked one finger under her chin and forced her to look at me.

"I just... this is too..." She seemed to struggle with what to say and I knew she was about to put herself in a vulnerable position. "It's like you said. Can you die of happiness?"

I smiled, remembering.

She smiled back. "I'm too happy. This is too fast. This is only our third date and I have never felt so happy with any guy, even someone I dated for over a year. I think it's easier for me to keep as much distance between us, when it doesn't work out?" The lilt in her voice was questioning, as if she didn't fully understand her motives but I got the gist of what she was saying.

I couldn't promise her love and commitment on our third date. She knew that too, her shy smile told me so, but I wished I could anyway. "I think we should just go for it. Who says it won't work out, anyway?"

"Statistics," she deadpanned.

"Cynic," I deadpanned back, and she laughed.

"Seriously... insecurity is a real turn-off babe," I told her, sucking in my breath when she moved deliberately against me and smirked.

"Evidently not," she said and I blushed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Part XXI: There are Some Lines You Just Don't Cross

(Dick)

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I walked into Value&Valor nursing one hell of a hangover and on my guard for any enraged, red-headed attackers. Cora considerately e-mailed me a vague warning for my safety, and I certainly wasn't taking any chances. Kori was stronger than she looked.

The elevator doors let out a loud "ping!" and I walked confidently onto my floor, smirking a little as I decided the outcome of this fight was definitely now in my favor._ Let's see you try to recover from that attack. I just went Tiananmen Square on your ass, bitch._

After side-stepping Logan, who paled at the sight of me and averted his eyes to the ground, I walked into my office and found Wally sitting at my desk.

I put my briefcase down on the ground, grinning against my better nature.

Wally practically radiated disapproval. "I suppose you had to," he said dryly.

Shrugging I clasped my hands behind my back, and tried to stifle my gleeful laughter. "It just sort of... happened."

"Uh-huh," he said, still unamused. "Well, you'd think you would've caught on and changed your own password."

My smile slid off my face. "What? She doesn't know my passworrrhhoh _shit_-," Unfortunately I had forgotten that she knew my e-mail password which was the same as my facebook password which means if she tried-

Oh sodding hell.

Instantly I was at the computer, shoving my friend aside so I could access the keyboard. "How bad is it?" I asked, getting the feeling that Wally had just quit Safari in order to keep me from seeing my facebook page.

Wally walked towards the other side of the desk, putting noticeable distance between him and myself and sternly asked, "How the hell could you forget something like that? When you trash your ex-girlfriends facebook page the first thing you should ask yourself is whether or not she has the power to do the same thing!"

I scowled as the internet took its sweet time loading facebook. "I was kind of drunk."

"_That_ drunk?"

"Shut up. I forgot that my e-mail and facebook password are the same."

"You aren't supposed to do that-,"

"I know!" I snapped and ominously clicked my profile page. Oh, hell. Thirty-eight comments.

**Dick Grayson** should not accuse anyone of being gay, seeing as HE was the one who accidentally made out with a drag queen named Cinnamon Lips. TWICE. So right now he should go take the advice of the super fine KORI ANDERS, the girl who DUMPED HIM, and go throttle himself with that stupid blue tie he likes so much. OH WAIT...

My favorite blue tie? ...What was she implying? I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion and then suddenly noticed the rather distracting bright color of my profile picture- which meant she'd change it. I studied it in confusion and finally gathered that something was on fire- on _fire!MY TIE_!

"_SON OF A BITCH_!"

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Part XXII: What Did I Do?

(Audrey)

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Sound has always been one of my favorite senses, closely followed by smell. The sizzle of grilling steak has always appealed to me. The smell of the steak and the sauteed orange slices was seriously mouthwatering, and I inhaled deeply.

"Smells good, darling," Seymour complimented as he walked in wearing only his jeans. He was barefoot and for some reason that seemed extremely sexy. Maybe I was just projecting my afterglow. "I love sex," I told him seriously and he dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

"It was pretty amazing, wasn't it?" He asked rhetorically.

I answered anyway, "Earth shattering."

"Thank you," He said with an adorably pleased smile.

"You're welcome," I told him, happily stirring the pan. "I am starving! I didn't get a lunch break."

Seymour nodded, "I didn't either. I'm exhausted too. I've been working almost every shift for the last three weeks."

"Plus training the newcomers," I added, suddenly aware of how much my feet hurt.

"Yeah. Damn. My pay check is going to be insane," He said, clearly looking forward to our pay day on Friday. I nodded and commented, "Not to mention if you factor in our raise."

"Oh yeah, that," Seymour said with a blissful grin. "I guess that makes it all worth it. The crazy hours. The pain in my feet."

"Mine are _killing_ me," I pouted.

"I know same! Oh, and plus that whole episode when that asshole tried to throw me out of the salon."

I giggled at the memory. A couple days ago Seymour and Jenny had gotten into a tiff which ended with her usual conclusion of firing him. Unfortunately a new muscular staff member had taken her reaction seriously and had almost succeeded in throwing Seymour out of the salon. Seymour had tried to explain but ended up just yelping, "Jenny! Wait, she's kidding! _Jenn_!" and Jenny had stepped out of her new office, ready to snap at him for bothering her when she saw the commotion in front of her.

"Jesus Christ! It was a joke! I, er, he's not fired! We just joke around like that," she had explained awkwardly, and the brusque hair stylist had let Seymour go with a shove and stalked away.

"Work is certainly different these days," I said, as I distributed tossed salad evenly on plates.

"Jenn certainly is different these days," Seymour muttered as he poured wine into two glasses. "She's... like, happy. It's weird."

I smiled in amusement at his blunt description and patiently explained, "Well, of course she's happy. She found her soul mate."

Seymour looked at me seriously. "You believe in soul mates?"

"Certainly. And I'm so happy Jenny found hers."

He pondered this quietly and set the wine and the salad plates on the table. When he returned he asked in a carefully casual voice, "Do you think you'll ever find your soul mate?"

I rolled my eyes and turned off the stove. "You're my soul mate, silly."

Seymour grinned. "Just checking."

The moment was ruined when the phone suddenly rang, and I reached behind me to answer it. "Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Audrey Gent?" A low, female voice asked, but I couldn't specify the source.

"Yes, you are," I told them politely, ready to decline any sort of sales offer.

"I want you to listen and I want you to pay attention," the woman said in an even voice, but a whisper of hostility unnerved me.

"Uh... okay?" I said in confusion.

"If you ever stand up Logan Garfields ever again, I will make it my personal mission to remove your insides from your body."

_What?_ "Uh.."

"That is not an idle threat; I have convenient connections that do not give away their sources and would do the job quietly and efficiently and _creatively_. With a KA-bar. That's a knife, _Audrey_." The mocking tone of her voice was chilling and I felt the blood drain from my face. Wait, why was she doing this? Something about Logan-I had no idea what she was talking about. I hadn't talked to Logan in _weeks_, and- wait, did she _KNIFE_?

"Wait-_what_-,"

She cut me off quickly, "Ah, ah, ah, no speaking until I'm done, Audrey. If you report this and try to get Logan involved, you _will_ be sorry."

I was hyperventilating, trying desperately to get in a word edgewise, "N-no there has to be a mistake, I _never_ stood him-,"

"Save your fucking apologies for someone who cares. Oh, and that is not an implication to go see Logan- you've wasted enough of his time already, you _sorry slut_. Oh and by the way. Whatever you have on your stove sounds like it's burning. Dumbass."

The venom in her voice shook me; I had never had anyone hate me this much. The unfairness of her false accusations broke my silent spell and I pleaded with this vindictive woman, "I swear, I would never-," I heard the dial tone and turned around to see Seymour standing in front of me with a concerned expression.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, pulling me into a hug when I burst into tears and wailed, _"But I never stood up Logan Garfields!_"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**Lovelovelove,**

**Rose**


End file.
